Master of the Twin Cities BY JORDRE
by Jake Crepeau
Summary: Military policy regarding vampires has been modified, and Rex has been awarded the city of his choice by the Territorial Master. Now he just has to make his dream a reality. Part 4 of Nomen Vampyri Rex. Rated M for language, possibly disturbing imagery, and implied m/m relationships; vampires, don'tcha know.
1. Chapter 1

**Master of the Twin Cities**

**Author's Note :** This story follows directly on from _The Vampire Vigilante_, and is 98% Original Characters. Illustration for cover art for part four found on the internet: Minneapolis Skyline, Minnesota - Pen and Ink Stock Illustration from inkart . net.

**Author's Note ****2:** Again with thanks to my roommate (and beta), Jake; without her able input and encouragement, this story would never have been written. Begun 10/16/12; completed 11/3/12. . Story is complete, and will be posted spaced out over several days.

**Disclaimer: (applies to all subsequent chapters; I'm not gonna write this over every time.) **All rights to _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _and_ Angel the Series_ belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy; Any Humans and Vampires that you might recognize are his. All others are mine; I'll put his back without too much damage when I'm done playing with them. Some situations referred to are taken from both _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _and_ Angel the Series, _but I'm too lazy to go looking them up to specifically footnote them. I originally read about the concept of the Vampiric Territories of North America in Yanagi_wa's wonderful story, Ulterior Motives. Other than that, if some item or situation sounds like something you wrote, please understand that I didn't intentionally take what was yours; it just apparently made enough of an impression to really stick in my brain.

Additionally, I have never been to Minneapolis or Chicago, and have not even tried to be accurate with any street names or areas indicated; any resemblance to actual people or places is sheer coincidence.

**Prologue **

~o~

_**Three weeks earlier:**_

"Sully, let's go grab a coffee—down th' street, like. I've gotta talk t' ya," Minneapolis Police Detective James Murphy said to his partner, carefully keeping his voice down. They'd just left their captain's office after their latest ass-chewing; he didn't want to have to tolerate another just yet.

Detective Tommy Sullivan nodded to his partner, rising and heading for the door of the bullpen. Something had been bothering Murphy for a while now, and it wasn't their captain's temper. Maybe now…

They went down the street and got some coffee, then went and sat on a nearby bench. Sullivan couldn't help noticing that his partner had chosen a seat where he could see anyone coming close to them—clearly he _still_ didn't want to be overheard.

They had nearly finished their drinks before Murphy worked up the courage—or whatever—to speak. "You're gonna think I'm crazy, Sully, but I swear t' God this's true. I've not been drinkin', not takin' drugs. But, man, even _I'm_ not really believin' this; how're _you_ supposed ta?" Murphy asked plaintively, gazing at his long-time partner and friend almost fearfully.

"Murph… Jimmy-boy… I can't help ya if ya don't tell me what's wrong," Sullivan said, growing concerned. This wasn't like his partner at all. Usually Murphy threw the wildest theories at him without batting an eye, for Sullivan to shoot holes in, about the cases they landed. But this "Vampire Vigilante" thing had him really upset.

"Okay, Sully," Murphy sighed, then looked over his partner's shoulder before continuing, not meeting his eyes. "What would ya be sayin' if I told ya that we're dealin' with a _real_ vampire? Like on that TV show, man: jagged, pointy teeth, yellow eyes—all of it. I'm _not_ crazy, Sully; I'm tellin' ya th' truth!" Murphy protested quickly at the disbelief and worry he saw on the other detective's face.

"I know we've been workin' really hard, Murph, an' the captain's been ridin' us somethin' fierce, but—c'mon, _vampires?_ That's just on TV, an' in the movies," Sullivan said carefully.

Murphy just shook his head. "No, it's not. They're real; I _saw_ one, talked to him a couple o' times now. That night we was on Cosgrove Avenue, an' the night we went t' th' Northside Clinic… He told me he was killin' t' eat, mostly. An' he called me last night. Didn't ya wonder, man, how I knew about that slaughter in th' factory? He said 'twas self-defense, like. An' he told me not t' be lookin' too hard for 'im, or I'd not like what'd happen. I believe 'im, Sully—you didn't see the eyes on 'im, like I did.

Sullivan looked at his partner in shock. Yeah, over the years they'd worked together, Murphy had come up with some really outlandish theories and ideas, but this? Real vampires? "Murph…" he tried once more, but his partner shook his head.

"You've not heard the worst of it," Murphy said, his voice grim now. "He claims that the military—our government—knows about them, too. An' if _they_ can't stop 'em, how could _we_ hope t' manage it?"

At that, all Sullivan could do was stare at his partner in silence.

**Chapter 1**

People stared as the big black SUV rolled slowly through the rundown neighborhood. It was the sort of vehicle one saw on TV, the kind the Feds got out of. _That_ thought made people turn away fearfully, although they still surreptitiously tracked the car's progress. Oddly, the car drew less interest the closer it got to the Northside Neighborhood Clinic. Or maybe not so oddly, for both it and an older, two-toned blue one, were seen there on a regular basis, albeit mostly on Monday evenings. And the people near there knew that this wasn't the Feds _or_ the cops poking their noses into others' business, but their mysterious protector…the one who was making their neighborhood safe for decent folks once more.

Several nodded politely to the passing car; most at least smiled, even if few had ever actually _seen_ their benefactor. They knew that he _was_ that, for their clinic had better facilities available now, and could do a bit more than basic care. No junkies dared to try to rob the place anymore or give the staff a hard time. Best of all, no demands of any sort were made on the area's residents; no one intruded upon their lives. He provided better protection, and more effective punishment, than the police could hope to do—and the authorities obviously couldn't touch him.

Rex pulled around to the rear employees' entrance and parked in the shadow of the adjoining building. He looked around at his passengers and grinned at their uncertain looks. _This_ looked nothing like the descriptions they'd heard of the Master's new lair…

"Relax; we are just here to get Taylor and Dobbs a baseline checkup, from a physician whom I trust. I wish you to meet the good Madam Doctor also, so you will know both her and the nurses who come out monthly to give checkups to the Stable."

"Humans _know_ about you?" Taylor asked, shocked at this seeming breach of security.

"A few know about me; some either know _of_ me, or at least suspect. And a few others know, but have a very hard time believing the truth," the vampire replied with a shrug. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed; after a very brief pause, he told the woman on the other end, "This is Master Rex; I am at the rear entrance. I have two with me, requiring basic physicals."

"Certainly, sir," the woman said, clear to the vampire hearing of the car's other two undead passengers. "But… Dr. B. isn't here today; she had a… family emergency to tend to, and we don't know how long she'll be gone. We have Dr. Nyles today—you met him, the first time you were here. He's very good, but he doesn't… _know_ about you," she added with some hesitancy.

"Does he suspect?" Rex asked, still not concerned in the least.

"I'm… not really sure. I think he may vaguely remember you from the night he was shot, but he wasn't here for the… aftermath." The woman actually chuckled at that, causing Rex to smile in response.

"Very well; we will see him instead," he decided. "Have someone let us in."

"Yes, Master Rex," Nurse Laura replied; moments later, the clinic's rear door opened.

"Come," Rex told his entourage, looking sharply at both Corey and Ray. "Stay in your human masks, and _do not_ snarl at any humans, no matter what. These are good folks, under my protection; they are not like the butchers you are used to. And this doctor is not 'read in,' although I _may_ decide to tell him today," he explained for the benefit of the humans, who had not heard both sides of the conversation.

They exited the vehicle, the younger vampires staying nervously to the shade. Taylor and Dobbs looked askance at Rex, but they followed, moving closer to their respective Masters' sides as they entered the building. Collins grinned, then leaned forward to give the nurse at the door a quick peck on the cheek. "Hey, there, Miss Stacy. Long time, no see," he told her, but he kept moving so the door could be closed and locked behind him.

"Hey yourself," she laughed back quietly. "Missed you guys; the lair seemed a lot emptier with you two away. The kids are all fine, Master Rex," she quickly added as he turned towards her. "I brought Nick out some fresh blood this morning. They're definitely keeping him busy; that one boy is a real _brat_, though."

Rex fought back his scowl. Nurse Stacy was a very warm-hearted woman, who tried to see the best in everyone and never spoke ill of anyone. For her to speak so… "He may not be with me much longer," he said with forced calm. "He has been on borrowed time as it is."

"Yeah, well, far be it from me to tell you what to do, but none of us here will cry when he goes," Stacy replied somewhat waspishly, then blushed. "Sorry; here, why don't you wait in the break room while I get you the paperwork? How many today, Master Rex?"

He smiled back at her gently now. "Two. I have brought my Pet, Taylor, and my Childe's Pet, Dobbs."

"Oh, good; you finally got Taylor back!" she exclaimed, happy for the vampire, before turning to smile at the two young men who hung towards the rear of the group. "I'm Stacy; if you ever need to talk to someone here, both Laura and I know about Master Rex. And Dr. Bauneau knows, of course. I'll get Laura to come in after a bit, so you can meet her too. But let me get the forms for you."

Rex settled back into a chair as she hustled out; he waved Corey and Ray to two others. Collins sat on the floor beside Rex; after a very brief hesitation, Taylor and Dobbs did likewise.

"Paperwork?" Collins asked with a chuckle, looking up at his Master. "I didn't know we'd filled any out."

"I did—as much as they needed to know, anyway," Rex said with a casual shrug. "I expect that I will eventually receive all of your official medical records—perhaps my own, as well. Then I will give the good doctor a copy."

He fell silent as the door opened after a soft knock sounded, and an older gentleman walked in. He looked at Rex carefully, then a slight smile crossed his lips. "Yes, I _do_ vaguely recall you. I'm Dr. Nyles, and I'm most grateful for your assistance, Mr. Alexander," he said.

Julius Alexander had been Rex's name in life; it was how he tended to introduce himself to unwitting humans these days—when he meant to let them live. It pleased Rex to realize that the clinic staff intended to protect him by trying to keep his true nature a secret.

Dr. Nyles looked around at the room's occupants. "Yes, I can see why you would choose to wait here. Now, what can I do for you today?"

"I have brought two of my… employees here, for checkups," Rex replied, carefully choosing his words to give an explanation in terms humans could readily believe. "They are… just released from military service, but I do not fully trust the doctors who were there."

Dr. Nyles looked at Rex carefully, nodding slowly. "All right," he said, "I can accept that explanation—officially, at least. Perhaps someday you'll decide to tell me the rest of it."

"If you wish, Doctor," Rex said, still trying to make up his mind on the matter. "Knowing the full story, though, will make you an accessory after the fact, and you will not care to believe me anyway, for some parts."

"There's always doctor-patient confidentiality," the human quipped back. "Dr. Bauneau knows, doesn't she?"

The door opened behind him once more, letting another woman carrying clipboards into the room. "Oh, Dr. Nyles, you're here already!" she said in surprise, glancing at Rex with concerned eyes.

"He's the Vampire Vigilante, isn't he?" Nyles asked, looking the nurse in the eyes.

Laura looked at Rex once more before answering. At his nod of permission, she told Nyles, "Yes… but only Dr. B, Stacy, and I are in the know. Vicki is too much of a flake to be trusted."

"Peter knows also," Rex added quietly, referring to the night lab tech. "He had to be told; he sees me 'screening' blood samples."

Dr. Nyles froze at that admission. He'd thought that Rex's appellation was just something the tabloids had come up with, but… "You're… a _real_ vampire? _That's_ what you're saying?" He sat down suddenly in a nearby chair with a _thump,_ going pale in shock.

"Correct, Dr. Nyles," Rex said, smiling just a little. "I am not the only undead here, either. But the humans who work here are under my protection, and have been since the night that you were shot. You have nothing to fear from me or mine, yes?"

He turned to look at the woman who stood there, calmly smiling. "Nurse Laura, I make known to you my Childe, Corey, and his Pet, Dobbs; Ray, who is new to my Court; and my Pet, Taylor. Gentlemen, this is Nurse Laura—you may see her at the lair periodically; she and Nurse Stacy are to be treated with respect at all times, and given whatever assistance they may need."

"Yes, Sire." "Yes, Master." "Yes, Master Rex," was heard as all acknowledged the order.

"Right," Laura said as she handed the clipboards to Taylor and Dobbs. "Just fill in the highlighted lines, please. I've already put down the standard info for the rest."

Taylor took his clipboard and looked at it. He couldn't quite restrain his chuff of laughter when he saw his address given simply as _The Lair._ In fact, the only thing they wanted from him was his name, date of birth, medical history—allergies and surgeries—and family medical history. "You don't leave those lying around, do you," he said; it wasn't a question.

"Nope," she confirmed, then sighed. "We have to have it, though, in case you need hospitalization. It can save time."

"Not a problem; Master Rex can probably get you my military records too," he said as he began to fill out the questionnaire.

"So, you really were military?" Dr. Nyles asked as he stepped forward to begin his exam with Dobbs once the paperwork was finished.

"Yeah," Dobbs replied shortly, not knowing how much to divulge.

"And Mr. Alexander is now your employer?" Nyles pressed further, seeking answers to questions he couldn't quite form yet.

"No; I'm Corey's," Dobbs answered, relaxing when he saw his master's approving smile.

_"I_ belong to Master Rex—that's Mr. Alexander, Doctor," Taylor added oh-so-helpfully, knowing full well that it would only confuse the man.

Dr. Nyles froze in place, then looked over at Taylor. "I don't want to know, do I?" he said, slightly chastened.

Taylor just shrugged. "You asked; I answered. You really shouldn't ask questions that you're not ready to hear the answers to," he said, but there was no malice to be heard in his voice.

The doctor was mostly silent after that as he finished his exams. Finally, he looked over at Rex. "They both appear to be fine, though I'm somewhat concerned about the bite wounds I see on their necks."

"They will not get infected, nor do we take enough blood to do them harm," Rex told him coldly. "It is how we let others of our kind know that _these_ humans have a protector that it is better not to cross."

"And do you intend to bite _me?"_ Dr. Nyles asked in concern, a quaver to be heard in his voice at the thought.

"No. The only ones here with that level of protection are Dr. Bauneau herself, and the two nurses who see to the well-being of my…other kept humans. Who, I tell you now, are happy and well cared-for, so you need not call anyone to try to 'rescue' them. They may leave me if they wish; they choose to stay, because they know that they are safe.

"If you have finished, we will be on our way. Good day, Dr. Nyles. Nurse Laura, you are always welcome, you _and_ Nurse Stacy. Give Dr. Bauneau my regards, and any condolences as appropriate. I will see her when she returns."

Then Rex left, his people trailing after him obediently.

~o~

Taylor looked curiously out the car windows as they headed towards the outskirts of the city. It seemed so odd to be out during the day with a vampire, even though he himself had sent Rex out in daylight in a car with darkly-tinted windows, when he had engineered the vampire's escape from the military. But Rex had explained how he had special-ordered glass from a firm in California for all his vehicles. They called it NecroGlass, and it protected the undead from the dangerous rays of the sun much better than regular dark-tinted glass did. The vampire had learned about it from the Nightstalkers, the other military group that used vampires, although those served voluntarily and were _much_ better treated than those in the Hunter Group had been. They used it for their eye shades and on their own military vehicles—at least at their home base in North Carolina. The glass was hideously expensive, but Rex said he'd had all the windows in his new lair glazed with it, so that the building could be sunlit for the human occupants, without endangering the vampires. Taylor found himself wondering where Rex had found the money.

They drove through the rundown neighborhoods, Rex snarling when he saw drug dealers openly on street corners and in building entryways, in broad daylight.

Collins looked over at him in understanding. "New hunting ground, Master?" he asked quietly.

"For now," Rex agreed, then turned his attention back to the road.

They passed through some areas devoted to light industry, then through more neglected areas. At last they came to a region that had once held genteel country estates. Unfortunately, too many of these families had lost everything in the Great Depression, or died out due to the Spanish Flu, and most of the properties had been broken up and sold, as urban sprawl overtook the area in the boom after World War Two. At the economy's next downturn in the late 1960s and early '70s, many of the industries that had moved there were forced to close, leaving the area mostly abandoned once more.

Finally, they turned into a gated entrance through a high stone wall. According to the worn sign still attached to one of the gate pillars, the place had, at one time, been a military boarding school. Within, the property was clearly in the process of being reclaimed from the many years of abandonment that had left it nearly a ruin.

"Welcome home, my Pet," Rex said, finally allowing himself to relax as he drove around to the rear and the entrance to the underground parking area of the main house. Taylor was safe, and home at last.

~oOo~

Nick looked down unhappily at the struggling young human that he held; the little monster was making a truly amazing amount of noise. Worse than that, though, was the crying little girl who cowered in the corner of her room, refusing to be consoled by her sister. Master Rex would _stake_ him for this; he just knew it. Now, though, the young minion wondered what the _hell_ he was supposed to do with Eddie until Rex decided to return.

The little punk had managed to pick the lock on his tether-chain and had tried to rape the Master's favorite stable-child. Nick had just awoken—it was only late afternoon, after all—and had heard her screams; they were most likely what had aroused him. Janet had been outside with the others, playing, but Sarah had wanted to put the finishing touches on some project she had going. The vampire had heard her and come running, fortunately before Eddie had gotten very far, but what, Nick thought, was he was to do with the human now? He _wanted_ to snap the little beast's neck, but he feared his Master's response to that. He could, possibly, drink enough blood to make Eddie pliant and docile once more, but he didn't dare be the first to drink from a stable member. Oh, how he wished that Rex would come home again.

And then he heard the car pull down into the garage. "Janet," he said, drawing the tear-filled, furious eyes of the older girl to him. She had come in for a bathroom break and had heard the commotion and had had a feeling… Now she glared at the vampire, although it was not _him _she was so mad at. He continued in a stronger voice, "I can hear Master Rex's car downstairs. Go and ask him to come straight up; _he_ will deal with Eddie."

She didn't want to leave her little sister… but the vampires had treated them better than her own parents—well, _step-_parents—had. She nodded, "Okay, Nick," then reluctantly left for the parking area.

Downstairs she found a large number of strangers getting out of the new black SUV that had been purchased and fitted-out just for this trip. Collins was already at the opened back doors, pulling out his and Rex's bags; he was surrounded by the other young members of the stable, who had seen the car arrive and come in to greet their returned master. Janet knew that _her_ news would not be welcome, but Master Rex had always been fair with them.

Suddenly she realized that three sets of golden vampire eyes were focused on her. She looked at Rex, and suddenly the tears she'd not realized were there flooded out. With a sob she threw herself at the vampire.

"Master Rex—Eddie got loose!" she wailed, clutching him tightly. She didn't know when he had knelt down to her level, but she was in his arms, a rumbling purr coming from his chest despite the gameface he was now wearing.

"Where?!" he demanded, trying to keep his voice calm despite his emotions. He would _slay_ that ungrateful little punk…

"Ni-Nick has him…_hic… _he's upstairs…_hic_… he t-tried t-t-to…" She tried to tell him, really she did, but _now_ she had the hiccups, and her face turned red with embarrassment.

"Hush, now; I will deal with this," Rex murmured to her softly. He looked up and met Taylor's eyes, then looked down at the girl he held. "Janet, this is Taylor. I want you to stay with him; _I_ will deal with Eddie, yes? Taylor is my Pet, and well-trusted; he will not hurt you." He gently passed her into the human's arms. "Stay here, _all_ of you," Rex ordered, looking around at the rest of his stable, now wide-eyed at the news. Every one of them quickly nodded. While Rex had never hurt them, each one knew what he was capable of—they had seen what he had done to their attackers. They were not about to disobey him now.

Corey turned to look at _his_ Pet, who tipped his head before his master could say a thing. "Yes, Master," Dobbs quickly said in response to the unvoiced command, his eyes lowered. "I'll stay here with Taylor too." It made the younger vampire smile, and he ran a hand over his human's head once, before following his Sire out of the garage. Ray and Collins followed after them.

With the vampires gone, the silence down in the basement was uncomfortable at first. Looking around, Taylor could see the uncertain looks on the young faces around him. The girl who had been given into his arms was tense, but made no effort to remove herself. With a sigh, Taylor lowered himself to a full kneel, the girl now in his lap. Dobbs joined him on the floor. Finally, Rob looked around and tried a slight smile. "Okay. I'm Rob Taylor, Master Rex's Pet, like he said. This is Rick Dobbs; he's Corey's Pet. Corey is Master Rex's Childe; the last vamp is called Ray. Who're you, and who the hell is this Eddie character?"

Now, suddenly, they were all talking at once, giving names and trying to explain. Taylor's smile turned into a satisfied grin—the ice was broken.

~o~

Upstairs was a much grimmer situation. Rex found Nick by the simple expedient of homing in on Eddie's shouted curses and Sarah's terrified sobs. The minion turned frightened, unhappy eyes to his Master, but Rex ignored him and his struggling captive in favor of the crying child.

He went over to her and knelt down, but didn't try to touch her at first as he looked over the trembling small body. Her clothes were torn; it was more than obvious what the older boy had attempted. "Sarah," Rex called gently, "look at me, child."

She had pulled away when she first sensed someone coming closer, tucking herself tighter into the corner. Now she risked a peek to see who it was. With a wail of terrified relief, she threw herself into her protector's arms, clinging so tightly to his neck that Rex was glad he didn't have to breathe. He didn't try to remove her arms, but held her close, rocking her and whispering nonsense in her ear to try to soothe her. At last she calmed a bit, and he was able to give Nick his attention.

Corey now held the still-struggling Eddie, but he had a hand firmly clamped over the boy's mouth, muting his curses. Ray looked on curiously from the hallway door as Collins quietly pulled a robe out of the closet for the girl.

"What happened, Nick?" the Master asked, keeping his voice level so he wouldn't frighten Sarah again.

"I think he picked the lock on his tether, Master," Nick said, careful not to try to shirk any possible blame—that would just anger Rex more, he knew. "I just woke up and came running when I heard Sarah screaming. The others were all outside; I don't know why she wasn't with them."

"We will learn that later," Rex said, brushing that off as inconsequential. "Continue; you said you heard her…"

"Yes, Master," Nick said, trying not to cower himself. "I was sleeping out here since you've been gone—in one of the empty classrooms, so's I could hear 'em if anything happened. I couldn't hear _anything_ from inside the vamp wing."

"Good thinking," Rex said, as much to calm the minion as anything. It _was_ good thinking; the "vamp wing" had been carefully soundproofed during the recent renovations, just so the vampires wouldn't be disturbed, as they slept during the day, by the children.

"Thanks… Anyway, I heard her screaming an' came out to find _him_ rippin' her clothes off. So I grabbed him, but I wasn't sure what to do with him. I _wanted_ to snap his neck, but I knew you'd be pissed at me for that. I was afraid that if I just chained him up, he'd get loose again."

"No doubt you are correct about that," Rex agreed, still rocking the little girl. He thought a moment, then nodded in decision. "Even Nurse Stacy has little good to say about the brat. Corey, my Childe, I have a task for you," Rex added, shifting his gaze to the younger vampire.

"Anything, Sire," Corey replied happily at his sire's attention.

"That… little punk you hold _was_ of my Stable, but…you have heard what he tried. He can offer no defense for his actions that might excuse them. So. I give you your first meal here, even though my stable is protected—or perhaps _because_ it is. I wish you to drain—and turn—that one you now hold. Then stake him when he rises. He will not be worth keeping as a minion, even, and we do not need the problems of having a body to dispose of. Then rest; it's been a long trip. Tonight we will _all_ go hunting, back in the city.

"Welcome home, my Childe." Rex left the room, carrying Sarah and followed by Collins.

And Corey's face was lit with a huge smile as he pulled the terrified boy's neck closer to his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

They did not go hunting that first night after all, but waited two more nights. There was plenty of bagged blood on hand, although Ray made a disgusted face at being told to eat that. After two years of bagged, stale animal blood, and not much of that, he wanted his belly filled with human, fresh from the vein. He kept his dissatisfaction hidden from Rex, but Corey saw it and was worried. It didn't help matters that Rex had given the stable reject, now dusted, to his Childe; it was just one more sore point to Ray.

Taylor spent the two days planning what he wanted to do with his new quarters, although he guessed he wouldn't be spending much time there. So far he'd been in Rex's bed every night. He hadn't ever thought of another man as a sexual partner for himself, but he'd learned that vampires didn't worry overmuch about gender. He was Rex's, and that was all that mattered, as far as the vampire was concerned. He was getting used to the attentions of his Master, and Rex was actually very careful not to hurt him unnecessarily. Better than he'd have gotten in prison, most likely… Life was good enough here, and Collins had plenty of work to keep both Taylor _and_ Dobbs busy while the vamps slept.

Dobbs was quiet and tended to keep to himself a lot when left to his own devices. He was more the academic type—Taylor wondered what had moved him to join the military… especially SpecOps. While both the humans used the exercise equipment in the small gym set up in the basement, Dobbs would usually vanish afterwards if he could escape Collin's notice, to be found reading a book on the tablet that had mysteriously appeared in his things the second day at Rex's lair. On the morning of the third day, one of the stable approached him cautiously about a question she had concerning one of her lesson assignments; soon he was surrounded by the youngsters. The "stable kids," it seemed, had chosen their own teacher.

To everyone's surprise, little Sarah came out of her shell quickly. Rex allowed her to cling to him the whole first day that they were back, even though Ray sneered at the lair's Master behind his back for showing such weakness towards the humans. It was what the child needed, though; by the second day she would approach any of the other males without hesitation—all except Ray. None of the stable were willing to be alone with that new vampire. Rex frowned to himself over that, for he knew from personal experience that children were usually very good judges of character.

Thus he saw the early signs of disrespect in the younger vamp that presaged trouble. Ray thought he'd kept his disdain hidden, but Rex had had years of experience in detecting secrets that others wished _kept_ secret. He watched the other vamp much more closely than Ray guessed; it would only be a matter of time before he would be forced to stake the ungrateful upstart, Rex suspected.

But peace reigned at the lair for now, and the two Pets and Corey settled in well. The nights were bright and clear—it was summer, and beastly hot, but that just meant that the hunting would be easy. Humans stayed out on the streets much later in good weather like this, especially when they hid from the heat of the summer sun indoors during the day. School was out, so there were more young people out looking for entertainment. It was what Rex thought of as "runaway season;" juveniles went missing as supervision relaxed for the summer months.

And the human predators knew this also; they would be out hunting, too. Rex grinned in anticipation.

~oOo~

He had explained his rules carefully to both Corey and Ray. Juvenile humans were not to be touched. Only pimps and drug dealers—or muggers, if they stumbled on one in the act—were "legal" prey. They were to use a knife to cut throats, not tear them out with their fangs. Under no circumstances were they to leave bite-marks. Prostitutes—always easy targets—and the homeless were off-limits. And malefactors were to have their respective crimes clearly cut into their foreheads.

"Oh, and do not forget to remove all cash they may be carrying, but leave readily identifiable jewelry behind," Rex added as a final admonishment as he let the two younger vamps out to hunt together. Rex himself would go with Nick, although he now felt that he could trust the minion to obey his strictures.

The only way he could really tell if Ray could be trusted or not was to let him hunt with Corey—unsupervised; Rex knew that his Childe would obey, and would tell him if Ray did not. He sighed and headed down the street from his car, leaping to the top of the nearest tenement. Nick was beside his Master in the next moment, and together they prowled the rooftops, heading west towards one of the areas where Rex had seen drug dealers on their way to the lair three days earlier.

Corey and Ray angled back slightly to the north, to another prime location for acceptable prey. Ray was disgusted by all of Rex's rules—who did he think he was, anyway? _Ray _was a _vampire;_ any and all humans were legitimate quarry. He never noticed that he'd slipped into gameface.

Corey noticed, though. _Oh, __**this**__ is gonna be trouble,_ Rex's Childe thought grimly. Ray was headstrong; he'd had a bad handler and had been shocked often by his chip. Corey wasn't sure just why his Sire had brought Ray along with them, but he feared that it wouldn't end well. "Ray," Corey hissed, growing annoyed at his hunting partner. _"Human_ mask, Ray. We don't want to spook…"

_"You_ can do what you want," Ray sneered. "I'm not afraid of _anyone,_ especially not a weak human-lover like your Sire."

They might have come to blows right then, but the sound of shots and running footsteps drew their attention. There was the sound of a scuffle in an alley not too far away; Corey headed that way, curiosity compelling him to investigate this possible mugging. Ray followed…just because.

They found one man trying to fight off three others, defending a fifth man moving weakly on the ground. Corey jumped into the fight when he saw one of the three aggressors back away long enough to pick a gun up from the ground, where it had clearly been dropped. To Corey's eyes, the man on the ground—already bleeding from at least one gunshot wound—was obviously a cop, although in plainclothes; so was the man trying to protect him. Where their service weapons were was a mystery the vampire did not dwell on.

The three attackers were definitely _not_ cops. With a roar of pleasure, Corey was on the three gangbangers, breaking the neck of the would-be gunman and drawing a knife across the throat of the second. As he drank down the hot blood spilling from his kill, he registered the fact that Ray chose to ignore their Master's orders, tearing into the throat of the third with his fangs. The defending cop, who'd been slammed into the alley wall by a swung piece of pipe just before they'd joined the fight, gaped dizzily at the two feeding vampires.

Fortunately for him, Corey finished first, for Ray turned to stalk the two cops as soon as he'd dropped his drained body, drawn by the smell of their bleeding wounds.

"Ray, _no!"_ Corey shouted, swinging the other vampire away from his intended targets. He was snarled at for his trouble and had to dodge a vicious attack. Ray held back none of his spite and frustration, cursing his "hunting partner" freely now while he strove to overcome his opponent.

~o~

The detectives were motionless against the wall, appalled by the ferocity of the fight before them. One of the fighters, the dark-skinned one, cursed loudly as he fought. The other, who seemed to be defending _them_ now, fought in silence, save for the occasional snarl. They slashed at each other with what appeared to be claws instead of fingernails; tore at each other with long, sharp fangs, striking and kicking and moving so fast that it was hard to tell who was doing what to whom. At last the quiet one snatched a piece of wood from a broken crate up from the alley's floor and stabbed it into the cursing one's chest…

The watching humans swore later (but only to each other) that they saw the outlines of a skeleton, but only for a very brief moment. Then there was a puff of dust—a _large_ dust cloud, actually—and they were alone in the alley with three dead bodies and one bleeding…

They weren't sure _what_ he was, or at least Sullivan wasn't. Murphy, though… "Oh, holy Mother of God!" he moaned, certain that they were about to die.

"Hey, no," the thing said, then suddenly his face—_changed,_ with a crunching sound. Before them now stood a young man, his bleeding wounds healing before their very eyes. "You're cops, right? I mean, you kinda look it, an' this ain't a good neighborhood, know what I mean? You got a way to call for help? You're bleedin' kinda bad, there; no telling _what_ you might draw," Corey said, moving towards the wounded human.

The second man tried to get between his partner and this monstrous creature.

Said creature looked at him curiously. "What, you think _you_ could stop me if I wanted t' hurt 'im?" Corey asked with a sneer. "Sorry, man; I'm outta your league. Don't worry, though; I'm not gonna kill either of ya. My Sire'd beat me bloody; only pimps an' drug dealers, he said. Cops ain't on that list—or not tonight, anyway." He grinned at them, letting his fangs down long enough to show, just to illustrate his point.

Then he froze, cocking his head to one side before smiling again. "Down here, Sire," he called, but not much louder than a normal speaking voice. A few moments later, two more forms dropped down to the alley floor, startling the two detectives.

Rex looked around at the bodies and scowled. "I thought I told you two to keep a low profile," he said through clenched teeth, ignoring the humans for the moment. "Where's Ray?"

"Sorry, Sire," Corey said, lowering his eyes and tilting his head to one side to expose his throat in submission. "I…I had to dust him, Sire. He kept trying to go after the cops here. And he bit one o' those punks…"

"Cops?!" Rex nearly yelled, catching himself at the last minute. He looked over at the two humans then and smiled as he recognized one of them. "Ah, Detective Murphy," he practically purred at the man, who just sighed.

"Wasn't lookin' for ya t'night," the man muttered in disgust. "Got a tip, we did, that there'd be a big deal goin' down. Only 'twas a trap, though, an' we got separated from th' others in all th' confusion, an' had t' try t' run for it.

"Murph, what're ya doin'?" the other one asked his partner slowly.

"Sully, ya remember me tellin' ya 'bout vampires last month?" Murphy asked in return, trying not to wince as Rex bent to check his wounded shoulder. "Remember how you weren't believin' me? Well, this's Rex, th' vamp I were tellin' ya about. I don't know the others."

Sullivan looked at their "rescuers," swallowing with a suddenly dry mouth. There wasn't a lot he could say with the proof right in front of him.

_"You_ need a hospital, Detective Murphy," Rex said after a few minutes' examination. "Nick, check the bodies. Corey, did you touch anything?"

"Uh, _yeah,"_ Corey snarked back. "Big fight here, remember? We were knockin' inta _everything,_ Sire; kinda hard _not_ to touch anything. Besides, _they_ saw us; Ray just _had_ t' be a jerk and go for 'em. There was no hidin' what we were."

Rex sighed, then pulled out his cell phone.

"Nine-one-one; please state the nature of your emergency," the operator said in a bored voice.

"Officers down in the alley off Third between Mason and Stanley; one has a gunshot wound to the shoulder." Rex ended the call immediately afterward, cutting off the operator's suddenly frantic demand for his name.

"We will be going," Rex said as he motioned the other two vampires back up to the rooftops. "This is now officially my city; I _will_ take out whatever criminals I find, to protect the rest of my humans. But you must excuse me now; _I_ have not eaten yet tonight, nor has Nick. _We_ have a date with some drug dealers. Shall I call you, to say where to find the bodies?"

"Uh, no," Sullivan said slowly, steadying his partner against the alley wall. "You c'n just leave word at the station." He must be losing his mind, he thought, talking so calmly about men about to be murdered, with their soon-to-be killer.

But Rex just nodded. "Very well, then. Take care of your partner… Sully, your name is?"

"Sullivan; Detective Thomas Sullivan," he corrected automatically, then cringed when he realized what he'd done.

"Ah. Detective Sullivan, then," Rex accepted the correction calmly. "Take care of Detective Murphy; I will mark the two of you some other time. You may tell your superiors what you must about tonight's events; I will be interested to see what the news service makes of it all.

"The ambulance is nearly here; we will be going now. Good evening, gentlemen," Rex said; then, with one powerful leap, he was up on the rooftop with his Childe and his minion.

Two minutes later the first police car screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley, an ambulance right behind.

~o~

"They didn't have much cash on 'em, Master," Nick reported three blocks away from the alley. They had been forced into a condemned building to avoid the searchlights from helicopters now circling overhead, but Rex knew they wouldn't stay in the area very long.

"I didn't think they would," Rex answered absently, his mind clearly on other matters. Finally he sighed and jumped down from the counter he'd been sitting on. "We'd best go get the car; we'll have to hunt far away from this area now. And I, for one, am hungry.

"You did well, Corey, when you defended those detectives. The hunt would have been relentless if they had been killed. It will be bad enough as it is." Still, Rex found a pleased smile for his Childe, who basked in the glow of his Sire's approval.

And Nick was also pleased. They'd gotten rid of that low-status troublemaker Ray, and _he_ hadn't had to do a thing about it. The stable would be safer now, with both Ray and Eddie gone. This made Nick's job as self-appointed stable guard _so_ much easier. Now all he needed was fresh blood, and he'd count this night as perfect.

Forty-five minutes later, he had his wish, as both he and his master drained a pimp and his bodyguard just off Cosgrove Avenue. The papers would have quite a bit to scream about, come morning.

~oOo~

The papers weren't the only ones screaming in the morning. The homicide department's captain tried to blame the vice squad for allowing the notorious Vampire Vigilante to escape once more. Vice sicced Internal Affairs on the homicide captain, demanding a psych eval for the man.

Sullivan was just glad that the doctors in the emergency department decided that he should be kept for observation, overnight at the very least. Murphy was grateful for his hospital stay also, even if he wished he hadn't needed surgery to have the bullet removed from his shoulder. He'd be out on medical leave for a while, with desk duty to look forward to after that until the doctors cleared him again. He _wasn't_ looking forward to such "quality time" with his captain, but at least he'd have time to try to do some research on vampires. All he'd have to do was pick out the facts from the tons of fiction. Too bad there wasn't a handbook of some kind, like, oh, maybe _How to Deal with Your Local Vampire Overlord_ _for Dummies. _Or _How __**Not**__ to Get Eaten by Vampires._ Murphy snickered at the thoughts, knowing that they were all due to the Demerol he was on for pain. Now safe in a hospital bed, he let himself finally drift off to sleep.

~oOo~

"Detective Murphy? You up for visitors?" the stranger asked softly from the open door to the hospital room, a fruit basket in his hands.

Murphy looked over at him. "Depends. You from th' papers?" he asked cautiously, despite the military bearing of his visitor.

"No," the man laughed as he answered. "Mind if I come in? I was sent to see how you were doing." He walked in without waiting for actual permission, nudging the door closed behind him. This would not be a conversation for the general public, in all likelihood. He set the basket of fruit down on the bedside table and watched the detective with a grin on his face.

Murphy looked quickly at the window—the sun was out, shining brightly. "Sent by whom?" he demanded suspiciously, drawing another chuckle from the man.

"Relax; I'm human. But… yeah, that's who sent me. He was concerned for you and your partner. He's like that; once he's decided that you're his, he tends to watch out for ya. I'm Taylor, by the way. 'C'n call me Rob if ya want."

"Right. So, you one o' his 'rescued' humans, then?" Murphy couldn't quite keep himself from asking.

"Not really, but sorta," Rob answered, his grin going crooked. "I…looked after him while the Army had him. They threw me in the stockade when he…got away; he pressured them until they released me. So he's got me back now. All is happy-happy, joy-joy now with him. Luckily for you, I hear."

"Yeah, y' could be sayin' that," Murphy agreed with another sigh. "Look, c'n ya answer a question or three?"

"I can try."

"He said somethin' about 'markin'' us—Sully an' me, that is."

"Oh, hey, that's a good thing, actually," Taylor tried to reassure the detective. "It means he's serious about protecting you. He'll probably do you two like he did the lawyer he had—just bite your wrist and take maybe a mouthful of your blood, then mix a little of his into the wound so's you'll carry his vampiric signature. Then he'll turn you loose to do your job. He'll do it again every so many months, so the scent doesn't fade. It'll protect you from other vamps that come into his territory."

"Other vamps… ya mean there'll be more of 'em?" Murphy was appalled at the notion.

"There already are; he's been clearing out vamps and other dangerous demons from the area since spring, or so Nick tells me. Of course, I've only been here a couple o' days, myself…"

"Why?"

"Why, what?" Taylor looked puzzled. "Why kill other vamps?"

Murphy nodded slightly.

"He has to establish his dominance here, or he won't be able to hold the territory. The High Master in Chicago gave him the whole Twin Cities area to hold, for returning his lost Childe… Look, you look beat. I can give ya the lowdown some other time, okay? You need anything?"

"No, I'm good," Murphy said with a yawn.

"Okay. Look, if you need him, put in a 'personals'—say, 'Dick Tracy says call home.' He's got your number, right?"

Murphy nodded, wondering if this was really real, or just a drug-induced dream.

"'Kay. Talk to ya later," Taylor said, then left the room, shutting the door behind himself. Murphy was asleep within five minutes. Only the fruit basket he found when he next awoke told him that it hadn't been a dream or hallucination after all.

~oOo~

VAMPIRE VIGILANTE SAVES COPS FROM GANG ATTACK

Last night, two detectives involved in a sting operation against a local drug gang were attacked by three assailants…

~o~

TWO MEN FOUND WITH SLASHED THROATS IN RED-LIGHT DISTRICT

The bodies of a reputed pimp and a man presumed to be his bodyguard were found this morning in an alley off of…

~oOo~

The homicide captain was prescribed Valium and sent home until his blood pressure could also be gotten back under control.

And Sullivan sat in Murphy's hospital room, munching on an apple from the fruit basket he'd found on the table beside his sleeping partner's bed, as he waited for him to wake up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Rex explored the streets of his city over the next few weeks, sometimes alone, other times with Nick or Corey. The evenings he liked best, though, were the ones when Taylor came with him. Those were the nights that he went hunting for other demons and vampires, usually in St. Paul. The summer nights were invigorating, the streets so alive with people.

But they didn't go out just to hunt. Minneapolis-St. Paul had a thriving fine arts program, despite all the other budget cutbacks. They took in plays and orchestral performances; several times Rex took Taylor out to a club for dancing. The vampire enjoyed getting dressed up to go out for the evening; Taylor seemed to enjoy himself, also, on those occasions. And the general populace had no idea of the killer that so politely walked among them.

Rex still went to the Northside Clinic on Monday evenings; at times he would bring Corey with him. The younger vampire soon became a favorite among the nursing staff, although they never knew just what prank he might decide to pull on them when he was there.

Dr. Bauneau was back from her emergency trip to France; her great-grandmother had finally succumbed to her age and had passed away. Five generations had gathered in the town of Pau, in the Pyrenees foothills, for the funeral. Rex saw her the evening after she returned; she was still somewhat sad, but cheered up considerably at the sight of the vampire.

"Oh, good; you're back," she said, reaching up to give him a kiss on the cheek in welcome. The greeting surprised him, but she did it so reflexively that he realized she meant nothing more by it than a greeting between friends or acquaintances, a very European response, he knew.

"I am," he said so solemnly that he made her laugh—his intent all along. His smile reached his eyes, then. "It is good to have you back as well. My sincerest condolences on your loss, Madame Doctor. Other than that, I hope your trip went as well as my own did. Did either Nurse Laura or Nurse Stacy tell you that I managed to recover my surviving Childe?"

"They did," she said with a wry smile. "They tell me that he's quite the prankster, though."

"He has always been playful," Rex admitted with a slight grimace. "It was not always easy to rein him in without breaking his spirit. I always valued that in him; it was well worth the effort."

"It usually is. So… how did you like Dr. Nyles?" She had a somewhat cautious look in her eyes as she asked that question.

"He is… acceptable, when you are not available," Rex allowed grudgingly. "I much prefer you or your ladies, though." He had taken to referring to Laura and Stacy that way, which they found amusing when they learned of it.

As always, the reference made Dr. Bauneau smile. "I'm glad you could at least get along with him," she said; then she looked slightly nervous. "I'd… like to ask you something; I hope you won't be insulted or annoyed with me, or think I'm overstepping myself," she said, a wary expression on her face as she carefully watched him.

"Ask what you wish," Rex told her, smiling slightly. "At the worst, I might say 'no' to whatever it is that you want."

"No, I don't want anything from you… or not exactly," she said with a slight shake of her head. "I just wondered—would you or your Childe be willing to drink bagged blood if it was readily available? I mean _human_ blood, not animal," she quickly clarified at the disgusted look that crossed his features.

His face cleared, and he paused for thought momentarily. "I drank bagged human blood when I went to St. Louis to pick up Taylor," he calmly admitted. "It doesn't have quite the same 'zing' to it as fresh, but it is acceptable when hunting isn't feasible. I would think, though, that you would not approve of raiding blood banks. Besides, they separate out the blood cells; it is difficult to get the proper blend when you try to recombine the cells and thawed plasma."

"I can see where that might be a problem," she conceded, then she pressed on. "What if whole blood could be obtained instead? You don't seem to be bothered by blood that's not usable for transfusions…right?"

He cocked his head and looked at her carefully. "We cannot 'catch' anything from blood, since our bodies are technically dead already. So possibly-tainted blood would not be a problem for us. You already know that drugs are mostly just additional flavoring. Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking," she slowly admitted, "that there will be a lot more deaths, now that there are four of you here…"

"Ah, I see," he murmured, and he did. "You fear that we might start taking the innocent also. I can assure you, Doctor, that we will only hunt the dangerous criminals. I established this rule when I was still only trying to reclaim my Pet; now that Taylor is here, I have no intentions of changing my customs. To do otherwise would upset him greatly, and I choose to try to please him in this, since it truly is not a great hardship for us. Besides, there are only three undead in my household; Corey was forced to stake the fourth one when he refused to obey my strictures. The fool would have slain two police detectives; worse yet, that pair of humans are two that I have claimed as my own. There are bound to be more of my people here, though, once I establish a true Court for the Twin Cities. Still, I suppose that bagged blood could be an option—a reserve supply, so to speak, for when the hunting should become scarcer. Or for when I do not choose to take the time to hunt.

"Yet again I ask: Why?"

Dr. Bauneau had been shifting somewhat uneasily; now she sighed before answering his question. "I… convinced the director of our regional blood service to come down here tonight. He doesn't know what I wanted to see him for… Maybe you can arrange to get rejected blood?" She looked up at him in mute appeal as she awaited his reply; little Sarah had _nothing_ on her for the puppy-dog eyes.

"Does he know about vampires?" Rex asked, grinning as he imagined the look on this new human's face.

"Not that I'm aware of," she admitted with a matching grin—she could readily guess the vampire's thoughts.

"Very well," Rex decided, then smirked as he added, "but you had best have a sedative or some smelling salts handy for when he learns of me. Where is he?"

"Already in my office, just waiting for us to join him. And Master Rex? Thank you for even considering this…"

"You are welcome—but first, let us see how this goes." Rex turned towards Dr. Bauneau's office then, leading the way. Nurse Laura saw them go and nudged Peter-the-lab-tech's arm, sharing a grin of anticipation as they huddled closer to the intercom, which they had set to receive from the doctor's office…

"Dr. Lawrence Parks," Dr. Bauneau said in introduction, "this is Mr. Julius Alexander; I asked you here this evening so he could meet you." The beefy, white-haired man levered himself up out of the chair he'd been sitting in, extending a hand towards Rex.

The vampire hesitated, then reluctantly shook the offered hand. "A pleasure, sir," he said, releasing the human's hand as soon as was polite.

"Mr. Alexander," Parks acknowledge curiously. "What can I do for you?"

"I believe that Dr. Bauneau is of the opinion that I may have a use for donated blood unsuitable for patients," Rex said, wondering if he'd have to give the full explanation.

"A use for rejects, huh? You do realize how dangerous that could be?" Dr. Parks began to pontificate. "Rejected blood is frequently tainted—carries some very contagious diseases. People traveling overseas come in contact with some really nasty bugs, Mr. Alexander; it would be only too easy to unwittingly spark an epidemic…"

"Dr. Parks, I cannot catch _anything_ that blood might carry, nor would any remnants of drugs—medical _or_ recreational—have any deleterious effects. We are immune to _all_ diseases. Neither are we carriers; drugs just give flavor. We can also safely consume _expired_ blood for up to a week past the expiration date, depending on the anticoagulant used."

_"Consume?!"_ Parks interrupted Rex, shocked by the concept.

Rex sighed; he hadn't meant to go on the way he had, but the human was just so _annoying._ "Please, Dr. Parks, be seated again. I… did not explain that very well."

"What did you mean by _consume?"_ the director of blood services demanded once more, remaining stubbornly on his feet.

"Calm yourself; I know you have a heart condition," Rex said.

That only confused the older doctor more. "How do you know that?!" he demanded, growing even more agitated.

"Gently; I can hear the irregular rhythm of your heart, Dr. Parks, and can scent traces of both Digoxin and nitroglycerin on your hands. Plus, your complexion indicates that you have high blood pressure, and I could feel excess fluid in your tissue when I shook your hand, so I know you have a problem with water retention, as well. This is no great mystery, doctor; just good observation skills." Rex watched as the older human calmed somewhat; then he spoke again. "You are a doctor, a man of science. Still, mankind does not know everything there is to know about this world of ours. Some things have managed to remain hidden, despite your best efforts at ferreting them out. My kind is one of those things.

"Men have speculated about us for centuries, have relegated us to the status of fantasy and folklore. But we are very real. My…household…is trying to coexist with your people more or less peacefully. A few of you know about me; Dr. Bauneau is one such. That is why she thought we should meet. My people must have blood to live; you routinely get freely donated units that you cannot use for patients. That blood would be acceptable for us to eat; _you_ would just incinerate it. If you gave or sold such units to us, they would be saving lives, for then _we_ would not have to kill humans to obtain it, yes?"

Dr. Parks looked at Rex as if he were crazy. Finally, he turned to look at Dr. Bauneau. "He's certifiable; you realize that, don't you?"

"Sit down, won't you please, Dr. Parks," Dr. Bauneau said as she gently eased him back down into a chair once more. "He's not crazy; he's just a vampire," she simply stated.

Dr. Parks spluttered a bit more, but finally they were able to convince him of the truth—after Rex was forced to shift to gameface.

"Bu-but this should be studied!" he began to exclaim, a gleam growing in his eyes that Rex was only too familiar with.

_"That_ has been tried, Dr. Parks," he snarled, angry now. "It did not turn out well. Not in California years ago, and not just recently in St. Louis. I doubt that _you_ would fare any better than this country's government did when they tried to meddle with, and poke at, things that were better left alone. Be certain that I will be notifying my lawyer—my _JAG_ lawyer—about you and your interest."

Parks paled now—it wasn't good to have any government agency too interested in you.

"Look," Rex said, trying a different tack. "All I want is to be able to buy the units of whole, human blood that your blood system cannot use. It would not be illegal; we were fed units of such by the military. You need only have your people not discourage willing donors that might otherwise be disqualified by overseas travel or recent medication usage. Just have them… perhaps place a red sticker on those units, yes? You sell usable blood to the hospitals; the units for _us_ need not be tested, even. It would help with your organization's expenses, for I _do_ mean to pay for any blood you might provide us.

"Besides, there are already black-market sources selling human blood. I can't guarantee that _those_ donors are truly willing, or even alive afterwards, though. I know that the criminals _I_ drain are dead when I leave _them."_ Rex had returned to his human mask before starting this last appeal; now he let his eyes go golden, and flashed his fangs to illustrate his point.

"H-how would you know…?" Parks hesitated to ask; now Rex grinned at him.

"I will give you an e-mail address; your people need only send me a message, such as 'Blood available,' and give the number of units and the address of the center that has them. One of us will come after dark, or one of my humans can come during the day, if you prefer. We need only agree on a set price for the units, so I know how much money to send. And whether your organization would prefer cash at pick-up, or just to bill my financial institution for payment."

Rex was exerting all his charm now. He was alone with Dr. Parks to finalize all details, Dr. Bauneau having gone back to seeing her patients now that it was reasonably certain that Rex wouldn't kill the blood bank's director. Finally they settled on a price per unit: forty-five dollars, since there would be no testing or additional handling required, thus no extra expense save the actual collection costs. They would set up an account; Rex' bank would pay monthly, as a hospital would. Pickups would be after dark; the facilities' personnel would be notified to expect such activity throughout the Twin Cities region.

"Thank you, Dr. Parks," Rex said at last, rising to leave. "I must get back to work; I am sure that there is quite a backlog of samples for me to screen. I _do_ appreciate you coming out here tonight, though."

"You… _work_ here?!" Parks was flabbergasted at the notion.

Rex sighed. "Yes, but we will leave it at that. _I_ must go, now, and so must you. You need not fear; this area looks rough, but the people here know that this clinic is protected. No one will assault you on your way to your car. _Good night,_ Dr. Parks." Rex turned his back then, and walked out to the lab.

He grinned at Peter, who studiously ignored the vampire, or tried to, at least. "Enjoy the show?" Rex asked sweetly, pointing at the intercom. "I could hear your breathing—you and…Laura, I believe. He is a pompous fool, yes?"

"Oh, yeah!" Peter laughed, then he finally sobered and pushed a rack of blood tubes over to Rex. "Here ya go, man—pregnancy and STD tests. Enjoy!"

"Wonderful," Rex muttered, but settled down to his evening's "work" at last.

~o~

They finished up, the last of the patients leaving at 10 PM. Rex looked at the time when the staff finally closed the office for the night—Dr. Parks made them run quite a bit overtime, but perhaps it wasn't too late…? The vampire sat in his old blue Expedition after the rest of the clinic staff had gone home, and pulled out his cell phone.

This wasn't the one he used normally, but his out-of-town contact phone. He shook his head when he recalled hiding it—or rather, its predecessor—in an old factory; he hadn't known then that he only had to remove the battery for it to be reasonably untraceable. Now he put the battery back in and pressed "1" on his speed-dial.

Five rings, then a sleepy, "Williamson."

"I _am_ sorry, Captain," Rex said. "I did not mean to wake you."

"Master Rex?" Captain Eric Williams, Army JAG lawyer, came awake quickly. "What can I do for you?"

"Tomorrow sometime, I would like you to check on a Dr. Lawrence Parks. He is the director of blood services here—blood banks, blood donations, that sort of thing. I have just arranged to purchase rejected units of whole blood from his donation and distribution centers; he seemed… upset… by the idea that I had a military lawyer available to me. Need I specify the type of excitement he showed at meeting a real, undead vampire tonight?"

"Right…" Williamson drawled, then laughed. _"You_ need to have the fear of Oversight firmly established. No problem. In fact, maybe I should talk to General Durgan, get him to send out some sort of official request to _all_ regional blood centers, in case you—or other, like-minded vamps—either travel or otherwise wish to purchase blood by the bag."

"That could be a good idea; word _will_ spread that I, at least, am buying blood from a legitimate source," Rex commented. "Others may want to follow suit. The general can also fly some of this in for the Nightstalkers' use; it would ease the drain on the humans stationed at Fort Bragg."

"I'm not sure _where_ they get their blood from," the JAG said. "I'll contact General Durgan's office in the morning, though. What made you decide to bag it part-time, anyway?"

"One of the doctors at a small clinic I… protect suggested it. She was concerned that we would be culling the herd too sharply, now that there are more of us here. She has no idea of how many vampires a region of this size can easily support, even just culling out the criminal element. Still, I decided to humor her; she is a good, caring woman. Corey likes her, also," Rex added with a smile that could be heard in his voice.

"How're Corey and Taylor doing, anyway? And Corey's han…human—Dobbs, right?" Williamson caught himself as he asked.

"They are all fine," Rex chuckled briefly as he answered. "But I notice that you do not ask after either Joey or Ray."

"No; I figured they went their own ways," Williamson said, carefully keeping any censure from his voice.

"Joey and his Pet are in Chicago with his Sire; Don Marco was very grateful to have his Childe back. I realize that I did not tell you of that connection; you did not need to know it at the time."

"Okay, I can see that," Williamson allowed with a sigh. "I take it you had a good reason."

"Yes. He—Don Marco—is High Master here; he holds the whole upper Midwest of the United States and Canada. He gifted me with Mastery of the whole Twin Cities region, to hold under him, for returning Joey to him. I would have been happy with just Minneapolis… This is much better, though," Rex admitted.

"So… you're going to continue…"

"I plan to just hunt the criminals still, yes," the vampire confirmed. "That has not changed—_Taylor_ has not changed. He is… accepting… of my hunting such, but he would be very unhappy if innocents were taken. _That_ is why Ray is no longer with us."

"What happened? He leave?" Williamson was curious now; that sounded like more than just going away, to him.

"Corey staked him three nights after we got home." Rex growled softly at the memory. "He rebelled against my authority; he tried to kill two police detectives who were being assaulted…"

"I saw the article in the papers," Williamson cut him off. "I had wondered."

"They are both doing well," Rex told him soberly. "I have had dealings with them before; I will be marking both of them, as I did you, once Detective Murphy is released from the hospital. It is good, I have learned, to have someone official at one's call."

"So I see," Williamson dryly commented, then laughed. "Anything else? I have court in the morning. Early."

"That is all," Rex said with a laugh. "Good night, Captain.

"Good night, Master Rex." Williamson ended the call then with a laugh of his own. It was a damned good thing he wasn't married; a wife would _never_ understand _these_ late-night calls!

~oOo~

FROM: Department of Defense

TO: Director, Regional Blood Supply

09 August 2010

Attention: Sir or Madam

Please be advised that there is a need for non-tranfusable units of whole blood for the foreseeable future. Donors who do not meet the requirements of medication withdrawal times, have traveled overseas within six months, or may be carrying sexually transmitted or other blood-borne diseases may still donate.

This blood is to be kept available for purchase by persons to be covered by the National Secrets Act and the Patriot Act. These units are to be sold at $45.00 each, to or for individuals identified as bona-fide vampires. (See attached memo re: identification of vampires.)

The authorized identification stickers for these blood bags may be obtained by contacting the Quartermaster Corps and requesting item #BB2583757.

Only those personnel likely to come into direct contact with the purchasing individuals are to be notified; all such personnel must sign the attached non-disclosure agreement. Any violation of these requirements will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law in accordance with the Uniform Code of Military Justice and/or the Patriot Act, as applicable.

Your compliance is appreciated.

(Signed)

Stuart M. Durgan  
General, US Army


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Evening visiting hours had just started when the big black SUV pulled up to the front entrance of the hospital. Security started to converge on the men who entered the building, concerned by the hooded jackets they wore, obscuring their faces. Jackets, on a hot mid-August evening?! But both men pushed back their hoods and removed their wraparound sunglasses once they were well away from the doors, and smiled at the security guards.

"I am sorry," the blond said calmly, "we are sensitive to sunlight—a genetic skin condition. We did not mean to alarm you."

"Friend of ours is here," the second man said easily. "We wanted t' see him before he was discharged, but this's the only time we could come. He's up on Four South…"

"Front desk'll give you visitors' passes," one of the guards said, losing interest, and they all headed back to their posts. Rex could hear them calling in the all-clear over their radios, and grinned.

The girl at the front desk _almost_ stopped them. "Only two visitors allowed at a time," she stated. "He's already got one…" Then she looked at them, taking in the short haircuts of the two fit-looking young men. "You cops or military?" she asked, sounding a lot friendlier now.

"Former military," Rex answered with a smile for the girl. "We are private security now, though."

It was apparently the right thing to say; she passed over two clip-on badges. "I'll let you go up. Try to keep it down to a dull roar, though, okay?" _She had a lovely smile_, Rex decided as he accepted the badges and passed one over to Corey.

"Thank you," he said, tipping an imaginary hat to the girl before heading for the elevator.

"How'd ya know?"Corey asked once the elevator doors closed behind them.

"She wore an American flag on her jacket, and very little jewelry or makeup. Plus I could smell a trace of cordite about her—I would guess National Guard. That, or she is police and just works here part-time. Either way, it got us in."

"Wonder who's up here with him?"

"We will soon see; I do not know what his family life is like," Rex mused as the elevator doors opened to their floor. Nurses passed, ignoring them once their visitors' badges were seen. The vampires paid them no mind, following the signs to their destination.

The door was partially shut; Rex tapped at it lightly before pushing it open and stepping inside. Corey followed, looking curiously at the man sitting beside the patient's bed. Both men paled as they recognized the two vampires.

"Good evening, detectives," Rex said quietly as he moved further into the room, allowing Corey to shut the door after them. "I hope that I am not interrupting anything. I just wished to see how you were faring, Detective Murphy."

"I'm doin' well," Murphy cautiously answered, feeling uncomfortable in such a confined space with two vampires.

"You make a habit o' visitin' humans inna hospital?" Sullivan growled suspiciously, nerves making him somewhat belligerent.

"Only when they are _my_ humans, Detective Sullivan," Rex calmly answered. He would allow the disrespectful tone of voice this once; wild creatures frequently snapped when they felt threatened, and _this_ human had not had as much contact with him as Murphy had.

"We're not—" Sullivan began, but Rex cut him off.

"Oh, but you are. You have chosen to involve yourselves with me and mine. So, either I claim you, or I remove you as a threat. You are good men, good at your jobs, or you would not have gotten as close to me as you have. I have learned, over the course of my life, that mediocrity is the rule. I do not choose to waste the exceptional, so I have chosen to claim you. I find it fortunate that you are both here tonight; it saves me the trouble of having to search _you_ out, Detective Sullivan."

"An' just what is this _claimin'_ o' yours?" Murphy asked, unable to shake his apprehension. "I'm not carin' t' be a vampire…"

Rex chuckled quietly. "I am claiming you, not turning you into vampires. My household is quite large enough, and you are much more useful alive. I will just make it so that others of my kind will know that you are…_owned_ is not exactly correct, but it is probably the closest concept that you will understand. You will be free to pursue your lives, work your jobs; you will just be marked as mine. You may call upon me if you require assistance; I will notify you of any kills we make…and _you_ may give me a list, if you like, of criminals that you have not been able to 'bring to justice.' I do understand, though, if you cannot bring yourselves to do that."

"Captain's pissed at us as it is," Sullivan grumbled, then looked at his partner. "You know what he'll say if we start tellin' him where all the bodies are before they're found, Murph. He'll lock us up as accomplices."

"That would _not_ be very wise of him," Rex growled; both humans grew very still at the sight of golden eyes blazing at them. Slowly the eyes faded back to green, and he looked at the still humans, amused. "Sorry—did I mention that I am possessive, and tend to defend what is mine rather vigorously?"

"C'n see that," Sullivan snarled, then paled, but the vampire only laughed quietly.

"Good; you have spirit, too," Rex said, pleased with his choices. "I do not expect you to betray your comrades. You may even tell this captain of yours about me. After tonight, you will carry proof of me on your bodies, and I can give you the number of a lawyer, if you need further verification of my existence.

"So: I believe that detective Murphy will be first, since I have dealt with him the longest."

"An' I'm th' one stuck here in bed," Murphy sighed, while still looking at the vampire with trepidation.

"I only need your wrist, not your neck, for this," Rex soothed, now that the humans seemed to be accepting this so calmly. Of course, that may have had something to do with the fact that Corey was clearly blocking the way out, leaving them no choice.

"What're ya goin' t' do?" Murphy asked in concern, drawing a sigh from the vampire.

"I am going to bite you, as you suspect," he admitted readily. "It will not be terribly painful; just a quick sting. I am going to take a mouthful of your blood, then I will seal the wound. It will heal, leaving a slight scar. Then we will do this again every four or five months.

"More vampires will be coming into the area, Detective; not all will know of my rulings when they first arrive, and both you and your partner do not always wander in safe areas. Any vampires that find you will sense _me_ on you; it will make such encounters safer for you both. When they pause to verify the mark, you need only tell them that you belong to me—trust me, _that_ will hold more weight with them than stating that you are police officers."

Murphy looked over at his partner, indecision on his face. "I've not gotta choice here, have I?" he finally asked. Slowly he held out his arm when the vampire just shook his head. And, as promised, it really _didn't_ hurt that much. He looked at the jagged teeth-marks in his wrist afterwards, wondering at how little it bled now.

Sullivan had watched silently; now he nodded at Corey. "Who's he?" he asked, still trying to figure some way out. He remembered seeing this vampire in the alley, but hadn't been told his name.

"This is my Childe, Corey," Rex said, pride in his voice as he looked at the other vampire. "He is my youngest, and now only, Childe; my two older ones were dusted by the military…I truly cannot call them _doctors_, for _they_ were the true monsters."

"Childe…" Sullivan was thinking now. "Like on TV—you made him a vampire?"

"Yes!" Rex was pleased that the human understood this much, at least. "I have not turned anyone since the '60s, though, and have no intention of doing so now."

"What about the one as came t' see me th' other day?" Murphy looked up from his wrist. "Rob…"

"You mean Taylor," Rex said with a nod. "I do not mean to turn him; he is my Pet… my favored human, some term it. He will only be turned if he is mortally injured, or terminally ill. Or unless he requests it of me. I owe him much, and I always try to pay my debts.

"But come now, Detective Sullivan. It is your turn now; I still have blood to pick up this evening, and I do not wish to keep them waiting this soon into our association."

Sullivan looked confused, but it was the other vamp who explained while his Sire moved to take up the detective's arm. "We're buying bags of human blood from th' Red Cross—stuff that can't be transfused to patients," the younger vampire said with a shrug. "Fewer bodies for you t' deal with, anyway." He smiled; he had distracted the human long enough for his Sire to mark him without further protest, so he knew he'd done well.

"I didn't think you'd do that," Murphy said slowly, wondering what else he didn't know about these vampires.

"We do not, usually. Some choose not to kill, though they still need to drink blood to live. There are… ways, yes? Some still harm humans, but others… No matter," Rex said, moving away from his newest human minions. "We will see you on the streets, Detective Sullivan; Detective Murphy, I hope your recovery goes well. I could speed it somewhat, but I fear that I would only upset you by the method. Here is my card," he passed one to each human, "but do not give out my contact information to anyone. You may give the phone number on the back to your captain; it belongs to my JAG lawyer.

"Once again I warn you: do not try to find my lair too strenuously; you would only endanger my young Stable members. Good evening, Detectives."

"Wait—what are these 'stable members' you're talking about?" Sullivan demanded, although he remembered to keep his voice down.

Rex looked at him consideringly. "They are human children whom I rescued—most of my early kills here were to save them from humans who would have taken advantage of them or killed them. I care for and protect them. Would you like to see for yourself, Detective Sullivan? I could bring you home with me tonight… you would be safe enough, since Detective Murphy knows you are with me."

_In for a penny, in for a pound,_ Sullivan thought while taking a deep breath. "All right," he said, earning himself a pleased look from the vampire. "Look, what'm I supposed t' call ya?" he asked as he headed for the door behind the two vampires.

Rex looked at him and smiled. "I am Master Rex, Master of the Twin Cities…and _your_ Master too, now."

~oOo~

It was dark now, safe for the two vampires to openly walk out to the parked SUV. Sullivan looked at the man behind the wheel, then back at his companions.

"Who's that?" the detective asked, although he kept his voice down somewhat.

The driver looked up at their approach and smiled, although questions could be seen in his eyes at the presence of the stranger who walked with his vamps.

"This is my Pet, Dobbs," Corey answered. "He needed a chance to get out and learn the city. Dobbs, this is Detective Sullivan. Master Rex claimed him and his partner this evening."

"Oh, hey, man, welcome to the family," Dobbs said with a cheerful wink. But he paid Sullivan no further attention, focusing instead on Rex. "Where to now, Master?"

Rex surprised them all by climbing into the rear seat. "You sit up front with your Pet, Corey; I will kept Det… no... _Sully_ company back here," he declared.

"Sully?" Corey asked uncertainly.

With a shrug, Rex replied, "That is what Murphy calls him. And _he_ calls Detective Murphy simply 'Murph.' I, personally, think that 'Murphy' is short enough for daily use. The rest of you should still be polite; they have worked hard for their ranks."

"Yes, Sire," Corey answered for both himself and his Pet. He watched as "Sully" climbed nervously into the rear seat of the car beside Rex.

"Relax; you are not outnumbered here," Rex said, amused at the human's hesitancy. "Dobbs is human like you, not one of the undead."

"Why would a human stay with you willingly?" Sullivan wondered half to himself, looking over sharply at Rex's chuckle as the car pulled out of the parking lot and into the light evening traffic.

"Sometimes you can feel safer with the 'monsters' than with your superiors, Detective," the vampire commented, letting his humor fade. "Taylor and Dobbs...they were military, and are honorable men. Those placed above them were _not…_honorable, that is_._ Someday we will perhaps explain further. Now, though…Do you know a better way to get to Evans Street? I can hear sirens up ahead of us; there is sure to be a traffic jam if we continue to go this way."

"What's on Evans?" Sullivan asked, confused by the abrupt change of subject.

"The blood distribution center—I _know_ that I told you earlier that we had a pickup to do tonight," Rex replied in exasperation. "I have no need to lie to _you."_

"Sorry… Where are we now?" Sullivan asked, looking around to get his bearings. He saw a theater marquee that he recognized, then started giving directions. Thirty minutes later, the car pulled up to the rear loading dock of a nearly dark building, then parked.

Only Rex got out, but he looked back at Sullivan. "Well, come along," he ordered, trying not to speak too sharply. This human was, after all, a very new minion; he had no idea of rank or privilege among the vampires. He ranked lower than a Pet, after all, so _he_ would be the one to carry and load the boxes of blood instead of Dobbs.

But Sullivan didn't know that. All he could do was follow after the vampire and wonder why his presence was required.

Rex found a buzzer to press beside the loading dock's door.

"Can I help you?" a voice sounded from the tinny speaker placed above the door, set beside a video camera.

"I received word that you have a special load of blood tonight," Rex answered, calmly looking around himself.

"Be right there," the person said; then there was an audible _click_ as the connection was broken. Soon the door was opened, revealing a slim young woman in a white lab coat. She looked at the two men standing outside the door curiously. One was very pale and sure of himself; the other had normal coloring, but seemed very nervous for some reason.

"I'll need to see some sort of ID," the woman said, leaving Rex to wonder what she would consider appropriate.

"ID? Why would you need that?" he asked, then shrugged. "I have a valid driver's license, if that will satisfy you…"

She shook her head with a giggle. "They sent us a set of really weird instructions on who we could give this stuff out to. I don't have a mirror handy, and some of the other things sounded like they could hurt you; the one that had me laughing, though, was to ask you to go all _grr."_

Rex paused, then laughed. "You mean _this,_ I take it." He went into gameface.

"Oh, wow—that's… really wild!" the tech gasped at first, then her look changed to one of awe. "Thanks… that's not a very safe look to be around, though, is it? For me, I mean…"

"Not usually," Rex answered, his eyes watching her carefully now. "I_ hope_ that you are not one of the foolish ones who hold silly romantic notions about vampires. _We_ are not always safe to be around."

"That's what the 'How to Identify a Vampire' memo said. I can see why," she answered with a slight shudder at the sight of his very sharp fangs, before turning back to business. "I have a form for you to fill out—since this is your first trip here, I mean. After this, you just have to give the issuing tech your name, so we can bill your account properly.

"Is this who'll be picking up if you don't come yourself?" she asked, looking briefly at Sullivan before turning her attention back to Rex, who had morphed back to his human mask.

"No; the detective is just along for the ride tonight," Rex said, seeing her eyes widen at hearing Sullivan's title. "Whoever comes for me will give you my name, though. It may be one of my humans, or possibly—one of the other undead of my household. Will that pose a problem for you?"

She hesitated, then shrugged. "I guess not," she finally said. "As long as whoever it is knows the account name and will sign for the shipment, I don't see that it'll make any difference. Oh, yeah―you're supposed to bring back the empty transport cartons every time you come back for a load, or you'll be charged for them. And, whatever you do, _don't_ let anyone use this stuff for transfusions under _any_ circumstances. The diseases some of this stuff could carry—they'd be better off dead."

"I am aware of that, but thank you for the warning," Rex solemnly said, although there was a twinkle in his eye.

"You're welcome—now that I've given the obligatory speech, you wanna come get your blood—or you sign the paperwork while he shifts the boxes, okay?"

"I will sign; _he_ will 'shift,'" Rex laughed and stepped inside to complete the formalities. The last "i" dotted and "t" crossed, he bid the girl a good night and returned to the car as Sullivan placed the last box of blood into the back and closed the door.

_"Now_ we can go home," Rex said in satisfaction as he settled back into his seat.

Sullivan just climbed in beside him quietly, wondering just how the vampire had managed to arrange for bagged human blood—and in such quantities. That spoke of a good deal of influence, in some _very_ high places. With that thought firmly in mind, the detective made no fuss at the blindfold the vampire produced. The rest of the trip out to the lair was made in silence, broken only by the music on the car's radio.

~o~

To Sullivan, the tour of the actual lair was like a waking dream. It was nothing like what he'd envisioned. Okay, yeah, he'd probably seen too many vampire movies… There were no dust-filled cobwebs, no bats hanging from low rafters—or high ones. No rats crouching in the corners. No dank, moisture-dripping stone walls or tombs to be seen. Just sleepy but contented-looking young people who seemed not at all surprised to have strangers looking into their comfortable bedrooms at odd hours.

The floors in the kitchen looked clean enough to eat from. The high windows promised lots of light during the day. Sullivan looked around himself in shock. _Daylight and vampires?!_

"You okay?"

The detective spun around to see one more bleary-eyed… human?... entering the room.

"I'm… not sure," he answered honestly. "This is _not_ what I expected."

"Know what you mean," the human laughed back. "I'm Rob Taylor, Master Rex's Pet. He did a really great job on this place, didn't he? I mean, I was _really_ impressed when I got here and saw it. Sure as _hell_ beats where we were."

"Are you awake enough to safely drive, Taylor?" Rex asked as he walked up behind the human and wrapped his arms around his Pet's waist.

"Uhm, probably; just let me down a cuppa coffee, okay? I'll be good then," Taylor said, leaning back into his Master's embrace. Head back, his claiming scar was now clearly visible to Sullivan, who looked away in embarrassment at implied intimacy between the two men.

"Good. You will drive Detective Sullivan back into the city proper; his car is parked at the hospital. That way he can ask whatever questions he wishes, without one of us there to intimidate him. You need not answer those you do not wish. He looks like he would like to escape as soon as you are ready…"

"Right. Okay, coffee coming up—I can take it in a travel mug if you like, Detective…"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," Sullivan replied gratefully. "Not that I'm tryin' t' escape or anythin'; I hafta be at th' station early tomorrow, an' I still gotta call Murphy an' let him know I got back safe," he said, then colored as he realized that that hadn't been the most diplomatic thing he could have said.

The watching vampires just laughed at his discomfiture, though, so he guessed that it wasn't that bad a _faux pas._ Still, he was grateful to be back in the car, his blindfold carefully back in place, for it meant that he was going back to a reality he was more comfortable with—even if the safety he envisioned was just an illusion.

~oOo~

"Captain, we've a slight problem with that Vampire Vigilante thing," Sullivan said after he'd been called into the office for what had become their daily chewing-out.

"What do you mean, a slight problem?" the irascible captain of Homicide growled. He still hadn't gotten over the humiliation of that IA probe and mandatory psych eval. "Haven't you found _anything_ yet?"

"Actually, sir… we know who it is," Sullivan said, having decided that it would be best to get this over with quickly. Sort of like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"And you have him under arrest?" the captain probed eagerly, rising from his chair in excitement. He envisioned a promotion and a commendation for this high-profile case being solved at last.

"No, sir—like I said, we've a problem."

"What _sort_ of problem?" He leaned across his desk, balancing on clenched fists, his rosy dreams of advancement turning to ashes in his mind. It was all he could do not to scream at his detective… but _that_ would have him out on medical leave, if not summarily "retired" from the force.

"We can't arrest him," Sullivan answered. He hated this, but it was true. He'd called that number on the back of the card he'd been given, spoken to the lawyer. "He's protected by the military, under the Patriot Act."

Captain Hendricks sat down heavily in his chair, able only to stare blankly at his detective as his mind tried to process this latest development. _Protected? Like diplomatic immunity? No!_ "No!" he tried to shout, but it came out more like a squeak of protest.

"'Fraid so. Here, sir—you don't believe _me,_ call this number. It's his JAG lawyer…" And Sullivan actually found himself enjoying the shocked look of frustration on his captain's face as he passed over the paper with the phone number. _Serves th' bastard right, for all th' grief he gave t' me an' Murph, _he suddenly thought. And then he smiled, feeling vindicated: the vampire would do what _they_ were kept from doing… and the very laws that stopped _them_ were protecting _him…_

It was all Sullivan could do to keep from laughing in Hendricks' face. He only wished that Murphy had been back to work to see it also.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

With an assured supply of good, fresh human blood, Rex and his household rarely needed to hunt for food now. It left the vampires more time to patrol through the city, or hunt out other demons in St. Paul just for the pleasure of the fight. Rex was amused the day he found a message for him in the Personals column, begging him to intercede in a dispute among two demon clans. It pleased him to do so, on the side of the harmless R'tok clan; the aggressive interlopers were not at all happy about this. They protested violently, killing a human by accident, but that was all it took to unleash Rex's fury. The bloody remnants of the Sht'rrannis left the state as fast as they could manage to escape the vampire's vengeance.

Word spread among the demon communities of the Master Vampire's presence in Minneapolis, as Rex had known it would. Other vampires began to gravitate to his slowly growing court. Most he staked, some he just sent away, but a few he let stay after telling them his rules for hunting. Then he just stepped back to watch them and see if they would obey. In none of the cases would he accept any of the minions into his own personal household.

The bus-station attendants quickly grew accustomed to seeing one of the big SUVs in the far corner of the parking lot. At first inclined to call the police about the loitering car, the night staff quickly changed their minds after the body of another known sex offender was found two blocks away. The time of death was estimated as roughly twenty minutes after a bus had come in, disgorging a young man. While the young man—teenager, actually—hadn't been seen since, some gut feeling told the bus-station crew that he was actually safe now.

_All in all, unlife was good_, Rex thought.

Then Williamson called.

He didn't leave an e-mail, but called Rex's personal cell phone. How he had gotten the number was a mystery, and a great concern for Rex, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

"What do you wish of me, Captain Williamson?" Rex asked, striving for civility as Corey and Nick froze in their places. It was dinnertime for the humans of the household; it was the vampires' custom to join them at table. Corey was an eater; he would eat human food from time to time, just for the variety of taste. Rex ate also, but not as often; he registered less in the way of flavor variations—food had to be highly spiced before he could get much enjoyment from it. Nick settled for a warm mug of blood, since he wasn't an eater at all. Still, they gathered for companionship, and the feeling of family that they got when they and the humans were all assembled for a meal. That just made it worse to be interrupted now, and in such an unwelcome manner.

"I… apologize if this is a bad time, Master Rex," the lawyer began. "I have some news from the trials I thought you might be interested in learning."

"Such as?" Rex prompted, wishing he could cut this call short. He would be furious if he had to find a new lair now.

"As expected, most of the defendants were found guilty as charged," the JAG carefully explained. "Of those, all but one—Major Greene—were sentenced to death. This was a second strike for the medical staff members found guilty; it was learned that most had been involved to some extent with the old Initiative in California."

"And this is of interest to me, how?" The vampire was barely keeping from growling now. Only the presence of the wide-eyed, nervous-looking Stable Kids gave him the control to restrain himself. They could tell that something was angering their lord and Master…

"I… put forth the idea that the punishment—the executions themselves—should be tailored to fit the crime. The tribunal agreed, so the condemned are to be drained by vampires. They have extended invitations to those surviving free vampires most strongly affected by the prisoners: You, Corey, Joey, and even William the Bloody, if someone can find him before the date of execution."

_"I_ want Wu; he ordered the deaths of my Childer," Rex immediately snarled, his eyes gone golden.

"I kinda thought you'd say that," Williamson dryly remarked, then snickered. "I already have him reserved for you, Master."

"Good man," Rex couldn't prevent an answering chuckle. "When is it, and where to we need to go?"

"Fort Leavenworth, in two weeks. I'll e-mail you a list; see if Corey wants to participate, okay?"

"Oh, I do… but I don't know his name," Corey shot back in irritation, knowing that Williamson would hear him despite his not holding the phone.

_Oh yeah, Vampire hearing…_ "Not a problem, young master; I'll include pictures of the men," the lawyer promised, then he laughed. "You know, a lot of people call us—lawyers, that is—blood-sucking parasites. If they only knew…"

His comment drew laughter and relaxed the vampires a bit, until Rex casually asked, "How did you get this number, Captain? _I_ did not give it to you." He could hear the JAG sigh over the phone.

"No, you didn't. You're not exactly hidden anymore, Master Rex. You _are_ protected, though. Certain… people in high places… have recognized what you're doing, and have decided to smooth your way somewhat, as long as you don't go overboard. I've assured them that that is not your intention. So, in light of what the other vamps in service have done for this country, they have extended a form of immunity to you and your household. You could consider it a partial payback for what was done to you and yours by the criminals in military service."

"That is all well and good," Rex shot back with a growl. "It does not bring my lost Childer back. It would be one thing if they had been dusted in a fair fight; that is just one of the hazards of unlife. But to be slaughtered as they were… it is completely unconscionable. To truly make reparations, your military owes me two Childer of my own choosing."

_"What?!"_ Williamson gasped in shock. "Master Rex, they'll never go for allowing you to just kill two humans…"

Rex had just thrown that statement out to see what sort of a response he might get. Now, though, the idea grew on him. "Why not?" he asked, thinking it over as he spoke. "You have soldiers killed every day in combat. I would think that _some,_ at least, would be willing to be turned if it meant not dying."

"And just how do you think you'd manage that?" the lawyer argued. "You can't just drain some soldier sent back from the front to a stateside hospital. You have to _be_ there when they're dying, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Rex agreed calmly. "I would have to be there anyway, if I were to take only the willing. I would wish to speak to them first as well; a Childe is not to be chosen lightly, Captain. I learned _that_ lesson the hard way, with Edward. Such as he, are not what I would pick to turn now, knowing what I've learned over the years."

"Master Rex, I don't think…" Williamson tried once more to argue, but he was cut off.

"And you will not _know_ until you put it to your superiors. You send vampires to combat areas; I know this for a fact. I do not see the problem here. Work on it, Captain. Oh, and if you wish to find William the Bloody, speak to Master Ripper. They are both Aurelians… Or ask the Slayers. The other Aurelian Master works with them.

"Good evening, Captain." Rex ended the call and took an unneeded breath to calm himself. "I'm going out—I need to kill something tonight," he announced as he rose from the table.

"I'll come with you, Sire," Corey said quickly, not wanting Rex to be out alone in such a mood. Who knew what sort of risks he would take?

"Me, too," Taylor announced, surprising the vampires. They all knew that Rex meant to hunt humans this night.

"That might not be such a good idea," Corey cautiously began, but Rex shook his head.

"No. Taylor can come. He is well aware of what I am, and of what I am capable." He looked at his Pet carefully before adding, "Human blood will be spilled tonight."

"Yeah; I figgered as much. Corey can watch out for me if you forget yourself, Master." Taylor calmly lowered his eyes and tilted his head to the side, baring his throat in submission.

Rex nearly purred in pleasure at this public display. Oh, yes, his Pet knew how to sweeten his moods, but he didn't really mind. Taylor didn't take advantage of the fact that he was cared for. "Come; there is something I wish to… discuss with you, before we go," Rex said, turning towards the vamp wing. Taylor blushed slightly, but winked at Corey as he left to follow his Master.

~oOo~

IVAN "THE BUTCHER" TOLINSKY FOUND DEAD

One of the area's most notorious drug lords was found in an alley with four of his bodyguards last night; the Vampire Vigilante is suspected in the slayings…

~oOo~

"How is he targeting these people in particular?" the police commissioner asked in frustrated anger. "We spend months working on taking these scumbags down, only to have the courts throw the cases out. Then this… vigilante character comes in and just takes 'em out! It's like he has a list of our most wanted, or something…"

Captain Hendricks of Homicide kept his silence—unusual for him. Normally he was all brag and bluster, but not today. No; today he thought he knew _exactly_ where the Vampire Vigilante was getting his list of victims from. Contrary to general opinion, Hendricks really _wasn't_ out to "get" the detectives of his department; he honestly wanted to get the criminals off the streets of his city. But since he couldn't touch the VV, as he thought of him, the least he could do was not impede the detectives who seemed to know who he was.

Murphy and Sullivan _had_ to be giving VV the list of the department's most wanted… and Vice's, as well, no doubt. It was the only explanation he could come up with, but it was not one that he could share. They _already_ thought he was crazy; he didn't have to prove it to them by airing his own thoughts on the matter.

He smirked, so slightly that no one noticed. His men would never believe this…

~oOo~

Two weeks passed quickly. There had been a brief spate of runaways—more boys than girls, this time, Rex noted idly, but they had been taken into the stable and had adapted quickly. He'd had to order more laptops, for there were more children doing lessons now. That wasn't all they were doing, Rex discovered after a quick phone call from Master Ripper.

It appeared that several of his older Stable Kids had discovered a wondrous thing called fan fiction… and had been busily contributing. He and Taylor had figured prominently in several of the stories—the human had turned scarlet with mortification when he had seen the more explicit ones. It _had_ to be pure speculation on the young authoresses' parts, for Rex knew he'd not actually been observed with his Pet in that compromising a position… but he'd have to try out some of what he'd read with Taylor; it had sounded intriguing.

To the stables' surprise, Rex did not forbid their excursions into creative writing. Rather, he suggested scenarios that would make the youngsters and teens research for historical and social background. They took to their studies with renewed interest after this encouragement. One girl went so far as to submit an essay in the Governor's Annual Essay Competition. She did very well, making Rex quite proud at her placing third in the state against several hundred others, but it had the unfortunate side effect of bringing them to the state school board's notice.

The letter Rex got from _them_ made him snarl with rage, but it was something he would have to deal with later; they were expected down at Leavenworth, Kansas, and had no time to waste on human officials and their petty rules.

~oOo~

The United States Disciplinary Barracks was a drab, forbidding-looking place, a blot on the surrounding countryside. High walls topped with rolls of razor wire, searchlights piercing the night's blackness as they swung and probed into the shadows… Taylor was grateful that he was only there visiting the place, and not as an inmate. He could feel Dobbs shudder beside him as they looked at the imposing walls.

"Hate to be locked up _there,_" Dobbs muttered to Taylor, but both humans knew that their vamps had clearly heard him.

"Don't worry, Pets; you won't be," Corey reassured their human companions as they waited for the gate guards to obtain their clearances.

It felt as if they'd waited at the gates forever, but at last they swung open to admit their SUV. Williamson was there to greet them once they'd parked.

"Master Rex, Corey," he said with a polite nod of his head to each vampire in turn. "Glad you could make it. The prisoners haven't been told that any of you were coming; it'll be a nasty surprise for them."

"All the better, then," Rex smirked with pleasure. "Who else is here?"

"You, Corey, and Mike, Billy, Sid, and Jacko from the Hunter Group; Joey opted not to come near the military again. Master Spike of Aurelius is here, as well as some of the Nightstalkers, who volunteered to act as executioners for us," Williamson said as they headed into the Administration Building. "The Tribunal decided that they didn't want any of you to drain more than one of the convicted."

"Just as well; we do not need to gorge so," Rex agreed. "I assume that steps will be taken to make sure none of the condemned are turned?"

"Everyone has agreed to just drain, and the bodies will be decapitated afterwards; we _don't_ need those bastards as vamps!" Williamson agreed fervently.

"Good. _I_ do not wish to drag this out either." They had arrived in what was normally a press briefing room, now filled with quietly talking men and women. Rex looked around, seeing the familiar faces of the vamps from the Hunter Group, accompanied by their handlers, all in black uniforms. The other human/vamp pairs wore Army dress uniforms, distinguished by a patch that bore a blood-red V outlined in silver with a red drop of blood falling from the point of the letter. The background was black, with either one or two small gold stars embroidered between the arms of the V. One of the two females present had no stars at all on her patch, and half of the men in uniform had no blood drops on theirs. (1)

Rex saw that Master Tony was there, with his Pet, Sergeant Downey, and the patches suddenly made sense. Tony's had a blood drop and two stars; Downey's was lacking the blood. It showed the status of the wearer: human or vampire, Master, Childe, or minion. Rex thought it rather clever, for someone who knew nothing of their nature would not realize the significance.

The two Nightstalkers were talking to a slender man with blond hair bleached nearly white, wearing a long black leather duster instead of a uniform. Rex had never met this vampire before, but he could guess who he was; he could sense the kinship between him and Tony. _This_ would be the infamous William the Bloody—Master Spike of Aurelius. Rex grinned as he strolled over, trailed by Taylor.

He nodded to the two he knew first, although that wasn't proper protocol. "Master Anthony (he was going formal tonight), Sergeant Downey—good to see you both again," Rex said before turning his attention to the only civilian vampire present besides himself and Corey. "Master Spike, I presume; a pleasure to meet you. I am Master Rex of Whittington, Childe of Zachary; I doubt you have ever heard of my Sire or myself."

"'Eard of _you,"_ Spike laughed. "'Eard you put Peaches in 'is place right proper. Good thing you didn't dust m' Sire."

"Few enough Aurelians left," Rex agreed with the unspoken statement. "Besides, I did not wish to hurt the Slayers who were with him—they were young, and very inexperienced."

"'Baby Slayers' is wot they're called. No sport t' killin' 'em."

"They would have been adequate against a minion," Rex allowed, then he placed a hand on Taylor's shoulder. "I would like to present my Pet, Taylor."

Spike looked at the human and grinned. "Not wot you signed up for, yeah?" He chuckled at the blush that stained the human's cheeks.

"Not really, no. But I stayed with him of my own free will," Taylor returned, surprising the bleached blond, who studied him appraisingly before finally nodding.

"'C'n see why y'd go t' such trouble t' get 'im back, mate. He's not much t' look at, but he's got spirit. Good t' meet you, pet," Spike said in approval.

What Rex might have responded with was pre-empted by the arrival of a number of high-ranking officers.

"Thank you for coming, gentlemen and ladies," this last with a nod to the two female vampires from the Nightstalkers. "I believe it best that we get on with this necessary unpleasantness; I'm sure _some_ of you, at least, will disagree with that assessment. I understand that a number of you have a claim against these prisoners for atrocities. We _do_ request that you show them the mercy that was denied to you at their hands, and make their authorized deaths as quick and painless as possible. It is believed that just having you as their executioners will be more than adequate payback.

"Master Spike, Master Rex, if you would come with me, the first two are already in the death chambers… they are expecting lethal injections, not yourselves."

They all followed the general in charge. Rex knew that it was Durgan, for he'd met the man down at Hunter Base when he'd gone to search for Corey and pick up Taylor. He and Spike were directed down to a different door than the others. Inside, Rex understood, for Wu was strapped down to a gurney, alongside one holding a man the sight of whom made Spike snarl and vamp out. The two humans took one look at the vampires in the room with them and screamed; the vamps were on them in a flash.

Taylor had followed behind his Master; he had never seen the vampire attack anyone with such ferocity before this. He didn't blame him in the least; he only wished, briefly, that he'd been a vampire also, to share in his Master's kill and vengeance for his slain Childer. If anything, Taylor felt pride in his vampire, for he had been just as fast and vicious as the notorious Aurelian Master beside him. His only regret was that the officer who had been over the Hunter Group—Colonel Heiser—would not be executed here with the others. He had taken the coward's way out and had committed suicide when the atrocities at his command had been uncovered and those deemed responsible placed under arrest.

All too soon, Rex was lifting his bloody mouth from his victim's torn throat. He drew his Pet to him for a fierce victory kiss; Taylor yielded without a struggle, despite the official observers beyond the glass. This was, after all, the life he'd consented to. A chuckle beside them broke them apart.

"Nice, mate, but I don't think th' others paid for _that_ show, yeah?" Spike snarked at them as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his duster and stuck one in his mouth. He didn't light it, though, to Taylor's surprise.

"You are no doubt correct," Rex answered with a crooked grin. "Besides, they do need to remove these bodies so that the others can have their turns. My Childe, Corey, is getting one of the next two, I believe." He moved towards the door as he spoke, an arm firmly around Taylor's waist.

Spike grinned and followed them out into the hallway and back down to the witness chamber. No one there made any comment about the blood still to be seen on both Rex's and Taylor's mouths; Tony just passed them some damp cloths so they could wipe off their faces. Taylor was just grateful that he still had all his clothes on, and in one piece. Now _that_ would have been embarrassing. He chuckled softly at the thought, coloring again slightly when the vampires in the room looked over at him.

"Later, my Pet," Rex murmured in his ear, correctly interpreting Taylor's response. The human's blush deepened, but he just leaned closer into his Master's side. Spike threw a brief wistful look at the pair, then turned his attention back to the execution chamber, where two more gurneys were being wheeled into position.

**Notes**

(1) Heraldic description (called a "blazon"): Upon a rondel _sable_, dependant from the letter V _gules_, fimbriated _argent_, a drop of blood _gules_.

"Sable" = black

"gules" = red

"argent" = silver

Determined by rank: one or two five-pointed stars _or _(gold), stacked between the arms of the V; or no stars at all for a minion. A Childe carries one star and a Master, two. Handlers carry their Vampire's rank-stars, minus the dependant drop of blood.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It was good to be home, curled up in his own bed, on his own silk sheets, wrapped around his warm human Pet. Taylor had adjusted quickly, seeming willing to learn what pleased his Master. And Rex was very, very pleased by nearly everything about his unlife now. He had gotten vengeance on those who had wronged him. He was the acknowledged Master of a good-sized, populous territory. He had a Childe he could be proud of, and intelligent minions—human _and_ undead—who could be relied upon to obey. His stable was healthy and, while still mostly too young, there were a few from whom he would be able to feed lightly very soon.

In truth, the only real irritant he had was that letter from the State Board of Education. Rex lay in bed, but pulled away from his Pet slightly; he was afraid that the tension he could feel rising in himself would wake Taylor, and the human needed to sleep. _Just who did those pompous officials think they were, anyway?_ he silently raged to himself. He _was_ educating the minors in his stable—intelligent, educated humans were by far the best to keep around: they were much more interesting to interact with, and could entertain themselves much more easily than stupid ones, and were therefore much less likely to cause trouble. He had researched the minimum requirements for schooling, and felt that his required studies far exceeded those minimums. He even insisted that the young humans study human history, and understand the laws of their country. He paused in his mental rant.

Morality. He had neglected that… but that was usually the purview of religion. Rex had no idea what religions his stable professed, but it shouldn't be too hard to find a spiritual guide for them. _That_ would most likely prove to be easier than dealing with the school board.

He'd checked out some of the books they'd listed as the required texts to teach from. It was easy to see why so many of the young humans he'd run into these last few decades seemed so ignorant. The schools barely taught history, and what there was had been so "predigested" as to be barely recognizable. "Revisionist" was what they called it these days, the way they'd changed the reasons, their _interpretations_ of people's motivations for the way things had happened, for the causes of great historical events. He had _lived_ through those times and knew just how warped the books presented the inconvenient facts they couldn't ignore. Anything to promote their own social agenda.

He sneered mentally, then forced his muscles to relax again when Taylor shifted restlessly. Finally the human settled once more, his breathing deepening as he slipped back into full sleep.

Rex resumed his mental rant. Literature was a farce—they taught comics and "pop" work, and existential garbage. The classics were ignored, practically until the kids reached college level. And by then it was too late: they hadn't learned how to think critically, but had just had enough knowledge spoon-fed to them that they would perform well on tests. And the ones that didn't were practically hand-led through, so their _delicate little egos_ wouldn't be _damaged by failure. _He couldn't prevent a snarl at _that_ line of bull, but he made himself quiet once more.

Only mathematics and the sciences were pushed, and even at that, what passed for psychology and sociology was a joke…

"You know, Master, snarling instead of sleeping is _not_ going to make things any better." Taylor was well and truly awake now, and that just made Rex even more annoyed.

He rubbed a gentle hand over his Pet's warm shoulders; the human moved closer to him once more. "They have no business sticking their noses where they are not welcome," the vampire grumbled.

"We both know that they're not needed, but _they_ won't know that until you speak with them. You can't avoid them, Master; they'll only make trouble for you," Taylor counseled as he let Rex wrap his arms around him again. Sometimes, he thought, it was like sleeping with an octopus—except a vampire's skin was dry, not slimy.

"The texts they wish me to use are worse than useless; too much is inaccurate," the vampire protested, although even he knew it was futile.

"So show them how the kids research their subjects," Taylor suggested. "As long as they can pass their stupid standardized tests, the do-gooders won't have a leg t' stand on. Our kids are already so far above the 'normal' grade levels, it ain't funny. That's why so many kids get inta trouble in school these days; they're _bored,_ being held back to the pace of the ones that shoulda been left back."

Rex looked at his Pet. "I thought you said you were a 'bleeding heart liberal'? Do you not believe that everyone should be treated the same?"

"Yeah, I do… but some kids just learn faster. It's not fair to them that they have to wait for the slow ones, or put up with the ones with behavioral problems that disrupt the whole class. These kids here—they're encouraged to excel, to dig deeper into the topics that interest them. And Dobbs is great with them; he woulda been a great teacher—or maybe not," Taylor interrupted himself with a sigh.

Rex nodded, although he knew the human couldn't see it. "Yes; he would have gotten into trouble himself for trying to do right by his brighter pupils. Here, with my stable, he can shine as a teacher. And they know it, having suffered under the 'official' system."

"Too true, O my Master," Taylor said dramatically, then he surprised the vampire by nipping sharply at his shoulder. The distraction worked, as he'd known it would. Rex's mood was abruptly turned to more pleasurable pursuits; afterwards he would sleep, finally.

And maybe he would be in a decent mood to deal with the petty bureaucrats who were soon to invade his domain.

~oOo~

This time there would be no blindfolds, no hiding the location of his lair. Rex was passing the place off as a private runaway shelter, one that was owned and run by a Mr. Julius Alexander. The deed for the place was on public record, should anyone care to look; he owned it free and clear, having paid the loan off even before the renovations had been completed.

The vampire shuddered at the thought of letting _anyone_ official know where he laired. He only hoped that Williamson was telling the truth, and that he was truly protected.

But he watched now from his sitting-room window that overlooked the front drive, until he saw the rental car pull in through the gates. He was irritable—it was far too early for him to be up and about, only midmorning, but there again he'd had little choice.

He looked around as someone tapped on his suite's door.

"Sire…uh, sir, they're here," Corey corrected himself quickly. He, too, was awake 'way too early, but he was determined to support his Sire. He had just finished a last-minute inspection of the Stable and felt that all was as good as it would get. All the used dishes were out of the rooms—not that they were allowed to accumulate there—and the dirty laundry was all picked up. Other than that, they had decided against making the Stable Kids turn their quarters into magazine-perfect rooms. These were children and teenagers, after all, and such were messy creatures. It was practically in their job descriptions, and if those officials didn't know that, or like it—well, that was their problem.

Rex left his room after one more tug at the tie he'd put on for the occasion. He knew he looked good. The dark charcoal-gray bespoke suit he wore fit perfectly—he'd had it custom-made by a demon tailor he'd found in Saint Paul. His shirt was a crisp white—an unusual color choice for a vampire, but it would be expected with the suit. His tie was a match for his green eyes. Other than a textured gold tie tack, cufflinks, and a plain gold band on his right ring finger, he wore no jewelry, not even a watch.

Corey dressed similarly, but his suit was clearly of lesser quality, as was Taylor's. Dobbs and Collins, playing the part of staff, were suited also. The Stable Kids wore comfortable but decent clothes. They'd realized just how important this inspection would be to their futures and meant to do Rex proud. They sat waiting in the classrooms, working on whatever research topic had caught their attention. Today, at least, they were all academic subjects.

Rex was down in the lobby to greet his unwelcome guests, standing carefully back from the patch of sunlight the open door let fall across the floor.

"Ladies," he said, "sir. Welcome. Do come in." Oh, how it rubbed wrong to issue such an invitation to strangers. Humans expected it, though. "I have a conference room we may use, through here…"

He led the way through to a wood-paneled room with high windows along one wall, overlooking the nearest athletic field. An antique Limoges tea and coffee service sat on a credenza beside the door; Rex noticed one of the women looking at that in disdain, and he frowned slightly― no dust was anywhere in sight―but he was determined to continue once they'd all seated themselves. He watched them look around themselves curiously. The furniture was of good quality, but not ostentatious. Art of reasonable quality—good reproductions—hung on the walls, just enough to keep the room from being barren-feeling. There was the slight scent of furniture polish and coffee in the air. They served themselves before finally settling into the chairs around the conference table.

Rex mentally braced himself before speaking. "I am Julius Alexander, headmaster here. I apologize for not seeing you before this, but I had business out of state that could not be postponed. One cannot tell the Federal government to wait on one's own convenience," he added as he saw that same woman about to make a snide comment about making _them_ wait. She shut her mouth in a huff, her complaint unvoiced.

The other woman shot her a look that said _behave yourself,_ then gave Rex a wan smile that didn't even come close to her eyes. "I'm Rachel Kramer; these are my colleagues, John Altman and Cheryl Black. I believe you know why we are here." She watched him, as if to see if her words made him flinch or anything.

Rex just smiled back as falsely. "A pleasure. These are my employees. Mr. Collins oversees the kitchens and does most of the cooking. Mr. Dobbs supervises the children in their studies—he makes sure they keep to the topics that have been assigned and provides any needed assistance. Mr. Taylor is my personal assistant and oversees the household in general, and Mr. Corey Alexander is my half-brother; he is just recently back from military service, as is Mr. Dobbs. Corey hires in and oversees the help for whatever grounds work needs doing. I have one other employee, but he is out on necessary errands today."

"You have only boys here?" the woman introduced as Cheryl Black cut in rudely.

Rex looked at her, masking his irritation at her poor manners. "I take in any runaway, either male or female. We have roughly equal numbers of both; they range in age from nine to eighteen years."

"I want to interview your house mothers," that officious woman demanded.

"Cheryl!" Mrs. Kramer snapped sharply at her colleague in rebuke. "I _am_ sorry, Mr. Alexander," she apologized, and he could see the sincerity in her eyes.

"No; that is quite all right," Rex said, passing the rudeness off as being beneath his notice. "I do not, at this time, have any female employees. The older girls look after the younger ones for…problems of a more personal nature. The two oldest girls are sixteen and seventeen years old, respectively. The girls are housed on a different floor than the boys. While they are encouraged to interact during the day, _any_ sort of sexual congress is strictly forbidden for all residents younger than seventeen."

The women, especially Ms. Black, looked appalled that he would speak so bluntly about such a topic.

Rex barely restrained a sneer. "This is a runaway shelter; a number of my residents have been rescued from the streets, some from prostitution. We try to find them before they become that desperate, or before they are forced into that life, but we are not always as successful as we could wish. _No one_ is ever going to force these young people to have sex while they are in my care." Rex was adamant about that; it showed clearly in his voice.

"We weren't able to find any records on your…residents, I believe you called them," Altman said, making himself heard for the first time.

"You will not," Rex replied bluntly. "They are here for shelter; they _ran away_ from abusive situations, from foster homes and step-parents that the _system_ deemed adequate, but which _they_ found unbearable. They have food, shelter, clothing, and the opportunity for an education here, with no one beating them, belittling them, or sexually abusing them. I am not about to turn them back over to a system that has proven inadequate at best.

"Now, then—I am prepared to allow you to see where they live. You may inspect the kitchens and their classrooms. You may talk to them. But you will not threaten them in any way, or try to take them away. They are _not_ being held here against their will; they may leave whenever they wish. However, I believe that they have a much clearer idea of what the real world is like than many adults do—including most politicians.

"So. If you have no further questions right now, you may indicate what you would like to see first."

Rachel Kramer looked thoughtfully at him. "You said that you'd taken these kids off the street. What about medical care for them? I know that street kids aren't always in the best of health."

Rex nodded; that was a reasonable question. "I have an arrangement with a clinic. Once a month a doctor or nurse practitioner comes out to give my residents a checkup. These are usually female, so my girls _do_ have an adult of the same sex they can voice personal concerns to. In addition, I bring each new resident in to the clinic for a complete physical as soon as is feasible, and I can call for assistance at any time it is needed."

"Thank you. I believe we should start with the classrooms," Mrs. Kramer said, before Cheryl Black could get started again. Altman hustled her along, clearly liking the woman no better than Rex himself did.

~o~

Altman and Kramer looked impressed at the classroom. All the young humans had their own laptops that they were diligently working on. Dobbs had come with the group; now he moved among his students to see if anyone had any problems or questions. A slim black youth had been leaning over a younger boy's shoulder; he moved back to his own station with a smile as Dobbs headed for the younger lad.

Black just looked as if she'd bitten into a lemon. She complained about the lack of a preplanned, board-approved curriculum, the lack of the officially approved textbooks, the lack of state-certified teachers, the fact that the children obviously had free access to the Internet… Basically, she found fault with everything that made these kids think for themselves, that didn't regiment them into mindless drones as the public schools did. Rex tuned her out; it was that, or risk tearing her throat out.

And while both Kramer and Altman were unhappy with this very untraditional approach, both had to agree that it was much better than no education at all, which was what these young people would have gotten on the streets—if they'd even survived long enough for it to matter.

Taking a deep breath, Kramer finally asked to see the kids' rooms.

By their expressions, they'd apparently expected a desolate, dormitory-like situation. In fact, each child and teen had their own bedrooms, except for Janet and little Sarah, who shared a room. Taylor was there to explain that this was by their own choice; that they had, in fact, insisted on it. The inspectors gaped at the riot of color in the rooms; no two were even painted the same.

"I encourage their individuality," Rex said when Altman commented on that. "They each chose what they wanted, just as they choose their own clothes, and how they amuse themselves in their free time. We do make sure they go outside for exercise every day, weather permitting; there is a gymnasium in another building that is newly restored, and a small auditorium that they use for impromptu theatrical productions. They have promised us something for Christmas, or so I am informed." Rex smiled at the thought; this was all the stable's idea, although they had asked Collins and Dobbs for their assistance.

Black sniffed disdainfully at the disorganized chaos in the rooms. "Don't you make them clean up?" she sneered.

Taylor glared at her. "You could take a white glove to those rooms, lady. They're _kids; _they're not in prison. And I dealt with too much mickey-mouse bullshit—that's GI for 'useless,'" he elucidated at their blank looks, "in the military to want to force anyone else to live like that."

She looked affronted that he'd dared to talk to her like that; Altman shook his head in disgust. "Give it a rest, Cheryl," he ordered. "You've been a royal pain this whole trip. Mr. Alexander, thank you for your cooperation; I apologize for the inconvenience, _and_ for the attitude," here he glared at Ms. Black, "that _some_ of us had the poor manners to exhibit. We will be back in touch with you, once we've written our report and compiled our recommendations."

"Very well," Rex said as pleasantly as he could manage. "I look forward to hearing from you." That was a lie, and everyone knew it, but the polite fiction was maintained as the inspectors were escorted out to their car again by Dobbs and Taylor. Corey was out of sight. Rex's cell phone rang, intentionally, keeping him from being "...able to see you off; excuse me, please; I _must_ take this call."

That subterfuge passed muster; he went into his office, and they loaded into their car and left.

Thinking back over the visit, as he looked out the window to watch them go out the front gates, Rex knew it was a wonder that he hadn't killed any of them. The warm hands of his Pet as they fell on his shoulders relaxed him a bit; his warm breath on the vampire's neck turned his thoughts to more pleasant activities. They had all survived the experience; that was all that mattered.

~oOo~

In Washington, DC, in the bowels of the Pentagon, General Durgan nearly exploded. "That vampire says we owe him _what?!"_

And Williamson calmly repeated—for the third time—just what Rex had said about reparations for his dusted Childer.

~oOo~

Henrí François Villon drove into Saint Paul with two Childer in his car, followed by a second vehicle carrying his possessions and two minions. He had been driven out of the New Orleans area by Hurricane Katrina and still hadn't established a new lair. He was looking for a stable territory to settle down in, and had heard good things about the Master here. Hopefully he would allow a Master of a different bloodline to live here; some wouldn't, he knew.

But one didn't know until one tried, and the Delacroix line could prove to be of assistance to a worthy Master…


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Hey! The Prodigal Son returns!"

Murphy cringed internally at the welcome he got from the other detectives in Homicide. Hell, he'd not been out _that_ long; he was actually back sooner than his doctors had expected. They couldn't explain it, nor could his physical therapists, but still, here he was, back on full duty after only three weeks. He could see his partner looking at him with concern in his eyes.

"Th' docs said I was just fine, Sully," he said, trying to reassure his partner. "Been busy?"

"Yeah; there's at _least_ three of 'em out hunting now, an' that's _despite_ the bagged blood I know they're buying," Sullivan grumbled back. "It's getting' so's they all look at _me_ every time the phones ring afta dark. Crazy part, though—th' captain ain't said a word t' _me_ about it."

Murphy plunked down into his chair. "How many'd we have whilst I was out?"

"Lessee… twenty-four days…" Sullivan was clearly adding the total up in his head. "Twenty bodies," he finally managed, leaving Murphy looking shocked.

"An' ya say he's been buyin' blood too?"

"Yeah…"

"We've got more'n just his household here now," he decided with a frown. And then Murphy realized how quiet the bullpen had gotten. His gut clenched as he realized how many of their co-workers had probably overheard them. He looked at Sullivan and registered the matching sick look his partner wore, then slowly looked around at the others.

Ken Loris got up and shut the door to the hallway, isolating the bullpen. "Captain's not here; he's with the Commissioner. So it's time _we_ got filled in, don'tcha think, Murphy? Or you, Sullivan; ya both clearly know somethin' about this that _we_ don't. How dangerous is it?"

Murphy looked down at his desk and sighed; then he took a deep breath and looked around the room again. "Okay, guys—this's th' truth now, so don't be callin' for the coat with the overlong sleeves for me. Th' press has been callin' 'im the Vampire Vigilante for months now, an' they don't know just how close they are t' th' truth."

"You tryin' t' tell us it's a _real_ vampire out there?" Detective Loris demanded, apparently the spokesman for the whole department.

"Yeah, fangs 'n' all. I'm not shittin' you guys!" Murphy quickly protested at the disbelieving looks he saw on the faces of his listeners. "It's a long story, fit for All Hallows, it is, but I swear t' ya on whatever ya want, I'm tellin' ya th' truth."

"Okay, so… you know it's a vampire. How?" Loris at least sounded like he was trying to keep an open mind.

"First time I… met him, I guess you'd say—Sully an' me were checkin' out that killin' on Cosgrove—this was months ago now, back in th' spring. Anyway, I get grabbed an' dragged into an alley, an' this guy starts warnin' me not t' be lookin' too hard, that he was just huntin' th' worst o' the criminals. He had a growly-soundin' voice, an' a damn' _cold_ hand across m' mouth—an' the night _wasn't_ that cold. An' he was _strong!_ But he let me go wi' a push when he was done talkin' t' me. By th' time I'd got m' balance back an' turned t' look for 'im, he was gone. I'd been wired; Sully heard it too."

"I've got th' tape," Sullivan confirmed. "Didn't turn it in; Cap'n wouldn't have believed me—you know how he was, back when the killings first started."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Loris agreed; their captain _still_ wasn't playing with quite a full deck, in his opinion. "So that was the first time…"

"Second time, I actually saw him," Murphy confessed. "We were checkin' out… a place we'd talked t' people before. He was there, an'… he explained himself. He can change how he looks—human one minute, then vampire-lookin' th' next. Yellow eyes, jagged fangs—like on that old TV show. All _grr,_ my niece would say. This was after that gang got ripped t' pieces in that abandoned factory. He said they'd attacked him an' another, that it was self-defense. An' that he was limitin' his kills t'be pleasin' someone who wasn't here yet, a human he called his 'Pet.' An' he warned me away again. An' warned me off the people we'd gone t' talk to that night. Said they weren't a party t' his kills, an' that they were under his protection, like."

"You guys know how quiet it got around here, about, oh, mebbe two months back?" Sullivan asked, taking up the story. At their nods, he continued. "Well, our vampire had gone outta town t' retrieve that 'pet' o' his. The Army had him… I'm not that sure why or how—just that him an' another guy—a human—came back here with him an' two other vampires. One he called his Childe—"

"Childe with an 'e' at the end, that is," Murphy interjected, making the listening detectives chuckle.

"So, we were at that bust that went sour three weeks ago," Sullivan continued with a scowl. "We got separated, an' Murph got shot. An' then three o' th' punks jumped us. I was tryin' t' keep 'em offa Murphy, when suddenly these two other guys jumped in. They took out those punks like they was nothin'… an' they started drinkin' down the blood o' two of 'em. I didn't know what th' hell was goin' on, but Murphy knew—or guessed. We just kinda froze—like ya do, hopin' th' big bad monsters'll forget aboutcha. So then one of 'em started towards us, once they'd dropped the dead hoods, an' the other starts fightin' 'im, keepin' 'im away from us."

"He jammed a scrap o' crate inta his chest, an' the other guy just went _poof_ inna big cloud o' dust," Murphy said. "An' _that's_ when th' vamp _I_ knew jumped down from the roof wi' another one. He called nine-one-one when he saw how bad I was hurt, an' then they all just left."

"So… you're sayin' there's, what? _Three_ vampires here?" Loris sounded like he actually believed the story.

Murphy shook his head. "We've got too many bodies," he said unhappily. "There'd been two b'fore this, back in th' spring. They'd not been killin' every night back then, an' Sully said they were _buyin'_ bagged human blood now. They don't hafta kill as often now, with that, an' Rex—the vamp I met—said his Pet'd get upset if they killed more than necessary t' live. So, for as many bodies as Sully says you've had, there have t' be other vamps around. Don't know how many, though."

"You're sure about this?" Again everyone froze. None of them had noticed when Captain Hendricks had joined them. He had clearly heard more than enough, though.

"Sure as I can be, sir," Murphy replied stiffly.

Hendricks scowled, then sighed. "We can't touch him—the one you called Rex. Our government has given him a free pass—an' don't tell anyone in any of the other departments, either. They quoted the Patriot Act at me when I called his military lawyer," the captain grumbled bitterly. He glared around the room until all the men there nodded their compliance. "So, any _weird_ killings, call for Murphy an' Sullivan here. They know this guy; he calls 'em every time he leaves a body, so any others are somebody _else's_ kill."

"Yeah, I figgered that, Cap'n; that's what's so weird," Sullivan said, getting ready to be chewed out in front of everyone. "Rex always calls to tell us where to go; those others haven't been called in, but they're 'labeled' like Rex does."

"And?" Hendricks prompted impatiently.

"So Rex set the rules, an' the new vamps in town're doin' what he's tellin' 'em," Murphy finished for his partner. "We might not be seein' all th' bodies, either. They could be makin' 'em inta vamps an' stakin' 'em—they turn t' dust an' don't leave a body when ya do that," he added for the benefit of the others.

_"You_ been watchin' too much TV, Murph—it's rotted yer brains," Mike Creedy sneered.

"Been readin' on th' computer," Murphy corrected with a grin that quickly faded. "Amazin' whatcha c'n be findin' there, once ya know what t' be lookin' for."

"Such as?"

Murphy didn't see who'd issued that challenge—Goldman, maybe.

"Such as, bullets'll just piss 'em off. An' we _don't_ want t' kill Rex—_Master_ Rex, as he calls 'imself—'cause _he's _holdin' all the others in check, an' keepin' 'em from the weak an' homeless."

~oOo~

Rex stood in the street, facing the main doors of the building unhappily. He could feel the hairs on his arms rising already, his skin crawling from proximity to the "Magic." Most people didn't realize how powerful the protections of the Church were, against his kind. He could face them if he was determined enough, but he wouldn't be happy doing it.

Drawing in one more unneeded, deep breath, Rex walked into the church to find the priest. It felt decidedly odd—he had always been one to respect the sanctity of a church. If his prey made it into one, or even onto the front steps, he had allowed them to claim the sanctuary, unlike one glaring example he could recall. To enter a church now—

But, he reminded himself, he wasn't hunting here. This could almost be considered an errand of mercy.

He looked around the cool, dim, incense-scented interior. The smell of incense wasn't as strong as he remembered it from before he had been turned—a human probably wouldn't even register it—but the feeling of sanctity was still just as strong. This wasn't his God anymore, not since the demon had taken this body, but it _was_ the God of his humans.

He heard footsteps and turned.

"How can I help you, my son?"

Rex looked over at the middle-aged priest and smiled gently. "I have a problem, Father," he said in a quiet voice. "I would rather not discuss it here in the church, though. Is there somewhere we can go to talk?"

The priest looked at him curiously, but nodded. "We can talk in my office, if you'd prefer. This way." He led the way out, going past the altar at an uncomfortably close distance and exiting through a side door.

The office was a small room in an adjacent building, connected to the church itself by a covered walkway. Rex sighed with relief once he'd gotten some distance between himself and that altar. While there was a crucifix on the wall of this room also, it did not project the same intense degree of Presence, and was far more bearable for the vampire.

"I am Father Olsen," the priest said as he waved Rex into a chair and looked at this pale visitor more closely. "Would you care for something to drink? I have coffee or tea… no? Then, how may I help you?"

Rex smiled wanly at him. "It has been many years since I last set foot in a church, Father—it is not for such as I, to seek comfort here. But I am now responsible for the well-being of others… young people, you understand. I can teach them honor, and duty, and obedience. Perhaps even love, of a sort. But things like compassion and mercy… these are more alien to my nature."

The man looked confused now. "I'm not sure that I understand what you mean," he admitted slowly, watching his visitor more carefully.

"I… have taken in—rescued, if you will—a number of young humans. Runaways, Father. I can provide them with food, shelter, and an education far better than they would receive in the public schools. I cannot give them any spiritual guidance, though. I was hoping that I could arrange some sort of regular visits from you. My property has an old chapel on it… you would be welcome to indicate how you wished it restored, and my people could help you, even if I cannot… This is not much clearer, is it?"

The priest shook his head.

"Very well, then. Please believe me when I tell you that I mean you no harm; there is something I must show you, so perhaps you will understand." And then Rex shifted to his gameface.

He could feel the surge of Power when the priest crossed himself in response, but it was purely defensive. He could have attacked still, could have killed this human unhindered, but he'd meant what he said. He meant no harm for the man.

"What are you?" Father Olsen finally asked, his voice calm and level despite his now-racing heartbeat.

"I am a vampire, and soulless. I know that I would not be welcome here normally." Rex tried for a gentle smile, going back to his human mask once more. "I meant what I said, though, Father. I only desire to arrange for religious counseling for my young humans, and perhaps to make services available for them occasionally, if not on a weekly basis. I do not want them to have to leave the estate; Social Services might try to snatch them. I do realize that you are busy, and no doubt severely understaffed. I am also willing to help if you have a pressing financial need, although I do not wish to advertise my presence here too strongly."

"Who are you, if I may ask?" Father Olsen carefully said, not sure if this was a wise question.

But the vampire only smiled. "I am who the news media has been calling the 'Vampire Vigilante.' Ironic, yes? The humans who know of me, but not what I am, know me as Julius Alexander. Those who know me call me by my demon's chosen name: Rex. I am a Master Vampire—an old one, that is. So properly, I would be Master Rex… in the old sense of rank, as well as of ownership of the humans I now protect."

"The missing runaways?" the priest asked, beginning to think he understood.

"Mostly, yes. I keep some few adults also," Rex calmly admitted. "You must understand that, while I must have blood to survive, I do not _need_ to kill. In the old days, Masters such as myself used to keep select humans to feed from; we call this a Stable. They are not turned into vampires, not abused or taken advantage of. Most of the humans in the stable I am establishing are 'way too young for feeding from, so I just care for them until they are older. I can provide much of their needs; just not the needs of their souls. Will you help me, Father?"

The priest looked at his visitor in open surprise. "I… don't believe that I have ever heard of such a thing—a demon _asking_ the Church to come in and meddle with its victims."

_"That_ is the thing, Father. These young people are not _my_ victims. They are the would-be victims of other _humans._ I do not force them to stay with me, nor do I hide what I am from them. They know I kill, but only criminals who would have harmed them or other innocents. Several have seen me do so, in their defense. I have already stood between them and the authorities who would have returned them to an uncaring Social Services system. They trust me, and their trust is not misplaced. But humans do better when they have faith, when they can believe in a higher Being Who watches over them. Surely you would prefer they place your God in that position, rather than myself?"

Father Olsen looked affronted by that statement, causing Rex to chuckle.

"You see my point. So, do you think that we can arrange something? If you do not have transportation, I can have one of my humans come get you, so you can inspect my chapel and talk to my Stable Kids, as they call themselves."

"You say you have adults too?" Father Olsen asked, growing curious now.

"There are three in my household presently," Rex confirmed with a smile. "Two are mine, one is my Childe's…. I am not the only vampire there, but the others look to me and obey me. I can explain about vampire social order another time. Will you come?"

"It will be harder at night," the human temporized, still not certain if this was wise, although he knew that he would do it. Souls were at risk here…

"I am sorry I did not make myself clear. I meant for you to come whenever was convenient for _you; _I assumed that would be during the day. My Stable keeps human hours, Father," Rex said with a grin at the priest's reluctance.

"Perhaps… ten AM then?" Father Olsen hesitantly suggested.

Rex cringed internally, but agreed. "If you wish. I will have Collins come to pick you up—he is human. You may stay for lunch with the stable, if you wish; I only ask that you do not say anything to make the Pets uncomfortable. They are both adults and consented to stay with my Childe and myself without coercion, although such would not have been their first choice normally. You may ask Collins about this if you wish—he is senior in my Stable, not a Pet, but he will answer your questions honestly and without fear of reprisals."

"Do the police know…" Father Olsen slowly asked, not sure how to view this visit—was it like the Confessional Seal?

"The authorities know of me, although the police may not be certain of just where I lair. The government and the military have told the local police to leave me and mine alone, so long as we do not attack the innocent. I do _that_ for my Pet's sake, not from fear of the police. Still, life is easier with immunity, and I do not care to lose it.

"But it is late, Father, and I am sure you have much else to do. I will see you tomorrow morning."

"You'll be _awake?" _the priest asked in surprise, then blushed slightly at Rex's laugh.

"Oh, yes, although I may be somewhat grouchy at being up so early," he said. "There is much that is false in the movies and popular literature. Ask Collins—he can tell you truth from fiction. Good night, Father. Until tomorrow." Rex rose and gave the priest a polite half-bow, then he was gone, back out into the night that was his own domain.

And Father Olsen was up for quite some time after, praying and asking God for guidance.

~oOo~

George Olsen knew that vampires were real, even though he'd "played dumb" while his visitor was there. He had even met a vampire before this, although he'd never seen the demon's face before—the "gameface," he'd heard it called. But _that_ vampire had been guaranteed safe.

It had been in Afghanistan, earlier in the year. He'd been close to finishing his last tour of duty there, and would be leaving the Military after 25 years in the service to return to his home city, Minneapolis. The diocese had had an opening in a church for him, in one of the poorer areas of the city. This was good, he'd felt; he was truly needed there for God's work. Normally he'd paid little notice to new personnel coming onto the base, but this one SpecOps soldier had been… different.

The man had been covered up completely, from head to toe, not a bit of skin exposed to sight. There'd been another soldier with him—and that had been another oddity. Neither man had boasted rank or any other insignia, except for their name tapes.

He'd thought he was being discreet when he'd asked about them, but that muffled head had turned in his direction instantly. The accompanying man had looked him up a few hours later, saying that his companion wished to speak with him.

Walker, as he'd asked to be called, had been… interesting. Father Olsen had never met a vampire before, yet he'd had little doubt that they were telling him the truth: the undead had volunteered for military duty, so his acute senses could benefit his country. _He_ was safe to be around, they'd assured him, although that could not be said for most of his kind. And Father Olsen could only hope never to run into any "wild" vampires.

Now, that hope had vanished like the night mists. This Rex was undoubtedly a vampire. The only question that Father Olsen had was how to protect himself. Obviously the vampire was capable of walking into a church; holy icons didn't seem to discommode him noticeably. Prayer was good—always his first recourse—but something further might be warranted. Finally, the priest reached for his phone. It would be daytime there now…

"Colonel Blake here," a familiar voice growled into the phone.

"Colonel, I'm Father George Olsen. I don't know if you remember me or not; I was stationed at your base until earlier this year…"

"Tall, thin, very pale blond… yeah, I remember you," the colonel responded impatiently.

"Good. I know about the special night-operating personnel that came in from time to time; the problem is that I met one of their… kin, here in the States. Do you happen to have a contact number of someone here that I can discuss this with? He claimed to be harmless…"

"I'm not sure that I'd have the appropriate contact for you, Father," Blake cautiously responded. The priest was clearly considering operational security and being as circumspect as possible. "You might need a civilian contact for your concerns."

"He indicated that he had contacts with the military," Olsen said in rebuttal. "He claims to have some sort of immunity, so I felt it best to explore this avenue first. I would hate to contact the wrong people if this were actually the case."

"I see your point," Blake agreed with a sigh. The civilian agency he would have recommended tended to stake first and ask questions never. He had no idea who this vamp could be, but… "Better safe than sorry; hang on a few minutes, Father. I believe that one of his kin is on base; I'll have someone get the contact number for you."

"Let me give you my phone number; it may be the middle of the night here, but international calls are still expensive, and my parish doesn't have a lot to spare."

"Right; sorry, Padre," Blake said with a mental head-slap. "Too used to official calls." He wrote down the number, then went in search of the Nightstalker currently stationed in-country with them.

~o~

Twenty minutes later, Father Olsen's next call to the number Blake's clerk had given him, was answered promptly.

"Master Ripper here; what can I do for you?"

Father George Olsen smiled. Now he would know if he—and the "rescued" humans—would be safe with Rex or not.

Calmly he began to explain his dilemma.

~oOo~

Father Olsen walked out into the bright morning sunshine to meet his ride. The driver had called to let him know that he was waiting outside the church for him; now he looked at the old two-toned SUV curiously.

The driver exited and walked over, extending his hand with a broad smile. "Father? I'm Collins."

"Father Olsen; pleased to meet you, my son," he said, mostly to watch the man's reactions.

Collins just smiled back, releasing the priest's hand once they'd shaken. "You ready to go, Padre? Or do you need to get anything else?"

"No; I have all that I require," he said, touching his crucifix to indicate his faith.

Collins nodded. "That won't be put to any test today." He stepped back and opened the passenger side door, standing clear of the opening to allow free access.

With one last prayer that he'd been told the truth about this Master Rex, Father Olsen got into the car and belted himself in as Collins slid behind the wheel. They were silent as the car pulled out into traffic, the priest carefully noting which way they went, not realizing that he was being watched with knowing eyes until the driver spoke.

"Normally we blindfold visitors before bringing them out to the lair," Collins said, suppressing a chuckle at the priest's slight blush. "Master Rex said _you_ were to be allowed to see, so's you could find your way out to us for services. He's really hopin' you agree, Padre. I think he's right; the kids need this. Some are Jewish, though; you can do just Old Testament for them, can't you? Rex won't be pleased if you try to convert 'em. You'll have a free hand with the ones no one taught _any_ faith to, 'long as you don't force any of 'em. He's really big on not forcing us about what _he_ sees as the little things, so long as it don't endanger the rest."

Father Olsen was looking at his driver thoughtfully. "If that's the case, he may want to contact a Rabbi also, so they get the…'proper slant,' if you know what I mean."

"Good idea; you should tell him that. He's usually open to suggestions, so long's you don't try t' beat 'im over the head with 'em. Believe it or not, Padre, he really does want only the best for us humans."

"He seems like quite a contradiction; one would expect a demon to try to destroy the humanity in its captives, not reinforce it."

"Okay, let's get this straight, Padre," Collins said, trying to keep his temper. "No one out here at the lair is a captive. We could leave any time—except maybe Taylor and Dobbs, but that's a special case. There's only been one kid he's kept chained up since he started collectin' 'em this spring, an' _that_ was to protect all the others. That little _monster_ tried to rape one of th' girls when he got loose—she's just turned ten, Padre. Every one of these kids has been rescued from _human_ predators, so don't go tryin' to make this somethin' it ain't."

"What happened to him?"

"Who?"

"The boy that tried to rape the girl."

"Just pray for his soul an' let it go, okay?" Collins said, regretting that he'd brought the topic up.

"I… take it that wasn't his first offense." Father Olsen let his voice go softer, less accusatory.

"No, Padre, it wasn't. Master Rex had been more than patient with him, and all he got back was th' rest of us being cursed at. He couldn't just let the kid go, either—he was sixteen, big for his age, an' aimin' to join a street gang. Th' Master tried to turn him around, but he didn't _want_ to change. Never mind all the other innocents he would'a helped hurt with a gang, he would'a turned us in to the authorities—_that_ would'a landed all the other kids back in Social Services' uncaring, blind hands, an' they'd already run away from _that_ situation at least once. We've got more than one kid here who's been abused—physically _and_ sexually—by 'uncles' and step- and foster-fathers who were approved by Social Services. I don't mean just the girls, either.

"Master Rex at least saw that he was ended quickly an' humanely—Corey had him for a welcome-home meal."

"How can you be so cavalier about a life being snuffed out so callously?!" Father Olsen was appalled by this apparently casual attitude.

Collins looked at him carefully, one eye still on the road. "You eat meat, Father?" he asked finally.

"Yes…"

"You get upset over th' cows an' pigs they kill for that meat?"

"But those are animals!" he tried to protest, although he already saw the other man's point.

"Yeah, they are," Collins agreed with a sigh. "You just hafta remember that Rex an' Corey an' their kind are vampires. They live on blood—human is best for 'em. Believe me, _our_ vamps are a lot kinder to most of their victims than a lot of slaughterhouses are to the livestock they kill. I'm not sayin' that _all_ vamps are, you understand. Just ours."

Silence fell in the car then, lasting until the main gate swung open at the flip of a switch to admit the SUV to the grounds of the old academy.

"This is… unexpected," Father Olsen broke the uneasy silence in surprise.

"It's a great place, sure enough," Collins agreed as he parked before the front door. "Come on in an' meet everyone," he said with a slight smile. "I'll take you back to the old chapel after that… or we can go there first, if you'd rather."

"I expect I'd better greet my host first," Father Olsen sighed as he opened his door to exit the vehicle. "I suspect that I've interrupted his sleep more than is truly polite."

"Yeah, but you're a more welcome 'interruption' than those bureaucrats from the Board of Education that were out here the other day," Collins laughed as he opened the front door for their guest. "One of th' women—I'm surprised Master Rex let her leave here alive. _I_ probably wouldn't have… you know th' type: nothin' suits 'em…" He let his voice trail off as the priest looked around himself in appreciation.

"Welcome to my home, Father," Rex said from a shadowed corner, his voice snapping the priest out of his reverie. "And thank you for coming."

"This is _not_ what I was expecting," Father Olsen admitted ruefully. "This place is magnificent. How did you ever find such a gem?"

"I will show you some of the other buildings," Rex said dryly. "It will let you get an idea of what this one was like when I bought the property. It took the workmen three months to get it back to this. Collins drove them relentlessly—I have pictures of the work in progress, if you would care to see them later.

"But perhaps you would wish to meet my Stable first? I did not tell them you were coming; I did not wish to have them disappointed, if you had changed your mind."

"They don't see too many visitors here, do they?"

"No—and some are still very shy around strangers, especially men," Rex warned as he turned to head back up the stairs he'd just descended. The priest followed silently, curious now.

Up the stairs, down a hallway, and into a large classroom. Silence at first… then Father Olsen found himself surrounded by chattering young people who showed no fear of strangers… once they saw that their demonic guardian vouched for him.

They spent some time there, letting the teens tell their own stories as much as they were willing, then Rex donned his protective gear and led the way out to one of the other buildings that dotted the grounds. "I have not been in this one yet," Rex admitted as he opened the door for the priest. "My Pet, Taylor, tells me that the floor is still sound, although I will have to have the roof fixed." They stood at the back and watched the beams of colored light play over the faded, grimy walls.

Slowly, Father Olsen wandered down the aisle towards what had been the sanctuary, studying the old stained-glass windows to either side. "These are all scenes from the Old Testament," he announced suddenly, turning to face the vampire as he waved at the windows.

"That makes sense," Rex said, nodding quietly. "This was a military academy once; Old Testament would make this chapel appropriate for either Christian or Jew. Only the tabernacle itself would need to be switched out, depending on the service to be performed." He strolled up the aisle himself, examining the windows and the overhead beams with wrought iron light fixtures hanging from them. It had been a long time since the last service here, he knew; he could feel no traces left to indicate that this place had been hallowed once. He easily approached the altar, searching the bare surface for he knew not what.

Finally, he turned to face the priest. "If you agree to do this, you need only say what you need done here," Rex told him. "The roof first, naturally. Then the heating system, and lights. It would appear that the pews are sound enough. I can have them refinished if you wish, and the walls cleaned and painted. Is there a storage or vestment room here…?" he added, muttering to himself as he pushed through a door to one side to find a room, stripped bare of everything save some built-in cabinets along one wall. He had to duck back quickly—he had pushed back his head coverings amid the shadows of the sanctuary, and had nearly walked straight into a sunbeam.

"Careful, there," Father Olsen counselled, then laughed. "Listen to _me,_ now, telling _you_ to be careful. I should be trying to drive the demon out of you, to save your soul."

Rex grinned at that. "There is no soul here to save, Father. Drive out my demon, and you will be left with only dust. Even my body will be gone; such is the way with vampires. This body's soul went to its reward well over a hundred years ago, unlike other types of possession."

"Really? I didn't know that…" Now the priest looked at Rex with more curiosity.

"There are those who claim to study us, but they miss so much—not that we bother to tell them anything."

"And, no doubt, they'd stick to their own warped theories if you did," Father Olsen agreed with a sigh before looking around once more. "This is a lovely chapel—or it was, back in the day. It would be a privilege to see to the spiritual needs of your Stable here, Master Rex—but I couldn't come every week, even though I wish I could."

"I understand; many parishes are short-staffed, I hear," Rex said graciously. "Do you have any idea how often…?"

"I can probably manage a service every two weeks, with some bible study afterwards," he offered reluctantly. He hated the thought of leaving these young souls without guidance… which reminded him. "You might want to get a rabbi out here for the kids that are Jewish, Master Rex. I know one or two that I could speak to for you, if you'd like."

"Ah… _that_ is a good thought, Father; I thank you. Perhaps he could come out the weeks that you cannot. After all, Christianity _was_ based on Judaism, and I do not see it hurting the young folk any to learn about both. Know, though, that I will not force any here to attend."

"I understand that; it's not a problem. Besides, I've found that young people like to do what their friends do—if some come, others will join them if there is no pressure." Father Olsen was smiling now.

"Good. Find a rabbi; I will speak to him for final approval before he comes out here, though," Rex warned, his voice gentle. "Would you care for lunch? We have been out here for quite some time, now."

"Thank you, but no. I'll break bread with your family another time," Father Olsen said regretfully. "I need to get back soon; I have a christening this afternoon that I must prepare for."

"Another time, then," Rex agreed, pulling his head-coverings up and heading towards the door. "I will have Taylor go shopping with you, when things are closer to ready here. You may pick out whatever vessels and vestments and such that you feel are needed, so you needn't bring them back and forth from your parish. Bring the rabbi with you, so he can get what he needs, also. Taylor will see that the bill is paid for both of you. Perhaps you can both meet with the contractors also, so that the interior is properly refurbished? I will, of course, have final say on that last, though as of now, all I intend is to make the windows safe for me."

"You're not gonna take out the stained glass?!" Father Olsen cried in dismay.

"No; just add a sheet of special clear glass on the outside," Rex assured the agitated priest. "It will filter out the harmful rays of the sun, _and_ help protect the colored glass. It is what I have all throughout the house, and in the gymnasium's clerestory windows. It is expensive, but this way I need not deprive my humans of daylight, or risk immolating myself."

"Very thoughtful… I'll speak to you sometime next week, Master Rex; I really _do_ have to be going." Father Olsen sighed with regret as he said this; there was just so much that he wanted to ask, wanted to know. It would have to wait for another time, though.

So he left, looking forward to seeing the vampire and the children once more… although he could just hear his archbishop if _he_ ever learned that he was willingly consorting with demons!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The five vampires slipped through the night shadows, darker patches of blackness hiding from the occasional pool of light cast by a streetlamp. They weren't hunting; they hadn't contacted the territory's Master yet to get permission. No; Henrí was just taking his family exploring, trying to get a better feel for this new city. It was quiet, but the night felt _off_ to the Master Vampire as they prowled the streets. Even his Childer were more wary tonight, proving that they felt something, also.

They roamed tonight right near the border between Minneapolis and Saint Paul—not that you could really tell where one ended and the other began without the signs posted on the major streets. For all Henrí knew, they were _in_ Minneapolis instead of Saint Paul, where his current lair lay. Not that it mattered, since they _weren't_ hunting. He just hoped that this area's Master would accept that reasoning if they wandered into territory claimed as that Master's own hunting grounds.

He paused to watch as a car drove slowly down the road, past the shadows they were currently sheltering in. The area had been quiet, with very few vehicles out and about—it was late, and there wasn't much around here to draw traffic. All they had seen recently had been the rare police cruiser, patrolling the streets—_making their presence felt,_ he'd heard it called.

But this car wasn't a cop car; Henrí watched as it ran a stop sign. Suddenly, blue lights flashed on the cross-street, and a siren wailed, shattering the stillness into jagged fragments as a cruiser started up and turned after the other vehicle.

It pulled over, and the vampires watched as the two police officers got out of their car and cautiously approached the light-blue Ford, one on either side. The car's occupants looked relaxed—four men were in it—but the vampires caught a strong whiff of fear and anger coming from them on a stray gust of wind. Both policemen had their hands on their pistols, although neither had drawn his weapon.

Suddenly the two men in the Ford's back seat lifted guns that had been concealed at their sides. One shot the officer on the driver's side point-blank to the side of the head as he bent down to look into the car, through the open rear window. Two more shots rang out in quick succession, dropping the other cop to the pavement, although Henrí couldn't see exactly which man fired the shots.

Without any further hesitation, the car drove off, turning left onto the next cross-street, leaving the two patrolmen lying in the street like so much discarded trash. Henrí couldn't read the plate number, as it had been partially obscured by mud.

"René, Luc, follow that car; I want to know where it goes. Jeanne, go with them also," Henrí ordered his followers. "Do not let them see you. Go." He turned to look at his youngest minion. "Marie, I want you to return to the lair; stay there until I get back. See that my best clothes are presentable, and those of the others; I will have to see the Master, now."

"Yes, Master," the girl answered, moving off on her errand as smartly as the others had. This was the first unsupervised task her Master had given her, and she wasn't about to mess up.

Henrí ran over to the squad car instead of the downed men, for he already knew that both officers were dead—he'd heard their hearts stop. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he reached in to grab the radio's handset and keyed the mike. "You have two officers down on 12th and Greene; the shooters fled the scene in a light-blue Ford sedan—a fairly new car—it headed west on… 13th Street," he announced, not knowing if he'd been heard or not. He assumed he had been, judging by the sudden squawk from the speakers, demanding to know who he was.

Henrí didn't answer; he just leaped to the roof and faded back into the shadows of the corner building's roof vents to wait for the responders to arrive. It didn't take long—perhaps five minutes at the most—before the first car to get there came screaming up on the site.

Soon the area was crawling with police cars, but Henrí waited until he saw a car with men in street clothes arrive, who started walking around, looking at everything. By then Luc had returned to tell him where the car had finally parked; the other two vampires had stayed near where they'd found the humans, watching in case the killers decided to move on. He listened to his oldest Childe, nodded, and sent him back to watch with the others once more. Then Henrí jumped down from the roof, still silent in the night, and approached the two detectives.

A uniform tried to stop him, until he said, "I saw the shooting, and the car the killers left in." Then he was brought to the detectives as quickly as possible.

The older man looked at him and frowned, as if something about his appearance bothered him. Finally the plainclothes cop gave his head the barest shake as he apparently put his concerns out of mind for the moment. "I'm Detective Loris; this is my partner, Detective Jacobs. What did you see, Mr…?"

Henrí smiled slightly. "My name is…not important. But what happened… I saw a light-blue car—a fairly new Ford four-door sedan—run the stop sign back there." He waved back down the street to the intersection. "Your police car saw them and flashed their lights and siren, and started to pursue. The blue car pulled over; the officers got out and approached the vehicle, presumably to check IDs. When they got to the car, the men inside shot through the open windows, one shot to the first man, on the driver's side; two to the second. Then they drove off, turning left on the street up there." Again Henrí stopped talking to wave in the direction he'd meant.

Detective Loris looked at him strangely. "There's something… I feel like I should know you, but I'd swear I've never met you before," he muttered; then, louder, he said, "I really do need to get your name, sir."

He managed not to growl. "I am Henrí Villon, and I am not in your system. I do not have a record…" Then he watched as the human's eyes first widened, then narrowed in suspicion, and he smelled fear from this man for the first time. He didn't realize that his eyes had flashed gold briefly, due to his irritation, but the human had been watching him closely and had caught the brief glow in the dim light.

"Where were you when this happened, Mr. Villon?" Loris asked, trying to stay focused. Surely he'd been imagining that!

"I was across the street—over there, in the shadows. The other car's occupants would not have seen me there. And there were four men in the car, not just the two killers."

"You've got _very_ good vision, Mr. Villon," Loris said, trying to ease away slightly from this witness, wanting a little more space between them—his nerves were screaming _danger._

Henrí looked at him. "You need not back away from me, Detective; I won't hurt you. If you wish, I can tell you where the car is now," he offered on a whim.

"What, are you a fortune-teller or somethin'?" the other human snarked, but he subsided at a wave-off from Loris, who was the senior partner.

"Not a fortune-teller; you weren't there when Murphy—" The human looked back at Henrí as he cut himself off. "I…believe I know how you could see all that so clearly from 'way over there, _and_ in the dark. But _I_ wanna know why you're tellin' me this."

"I…need to appease someone," Henrí started to say, wondering if he would be forced to explain, or how he even could. He was starting to regret his decision to involve himself in this affair. "I have heard that he has strict rules for living here."

"I haven't met him," Loris surprised the vampire by saying, "but I know someone who has. You say you know where the killers are now?"

"I know where the _car_ is," Henrí clarified. "But there is someone watching it right now; they will tell me where the killers are, and their friends."

"Okay; and… you're not gonna, uhhh…" Loris tried to decide _how_ to ask what he wanted to know.

The vampire smiled now, a shark-like smile. This human _knew,_ he realized. "No, _we_ will not bite you—we cannot hunt here yet. Do you know his name by any chance, Detective?" Henrí asked, feeling playful now.

"Heard the name Rex mentioned in a conversation about him," Loris carefully admitted, guessing correctly that the vampire wanted to know exactly _who_ it was he was supposed to…_appease,_ he'd said.

"Good; I had wondered," the vampire said softly, clearly not speaking to the detective. He shook his head slightly, forcing himself to focus back on this mess. "We should go, while I still know where to find them."

He was uneasy, but he climbed into the car with the two detectives and began to give directions. He knew he was strong enough that he could kick out the car's rear door if he had to escape the humans. They started out, followed by two other cars, this time with no lights or sirens.

Finally Henrí's curiosity won out over his discretion. "So, tell me, Detectives: when did you learn about my people?"

Loris looked into his rear-view mirror and nearly jammed on the brakes. His head swiveled around sharply, then he sighed out a soft oath when he saw the man—_vampire—_still in the car with them.

"Coupla days ago," Loris admitted, jerking his eyes back to the road. "You're th' first I actually met, though."

"Loris, you know you're talking crazy, right?" the other cop said. "You act like he's a ghost or somethin'."

"You missed it, Sid," Loris said with a sigh. "You were in court th' day Murphy and Sullivan finally came clean with what they knew about the Vampire Vigilante. Turns out he really _is_ a vampire. An' so's our witness here. Look in the mirror, Sid. See? No reflection. Me, I don't need t' see the fangs t' decide that's what Mr. Villon is. Murphy did say that there hadda be more vamps here than just Rex's household; now we know there's at _least_ one more."

Henrí nodded. "Pull over here," he said suddenly after directing them through several turns; he'd seen Luc lurking in the shadows.

The cars behind them mirrored their maneuver as Henrí and the two detectives got out. The waiting vampire slowly approached the small group, caution in every line of his body.

His Sire looked at him to demand, "Where are they?"

"Side apartment, third floor of that building, there," Luc replied promptly, pointing at the structure in question. "Only, there's like, eight or nine men in it, and some women and kids in a back room. All the men are armed. Plus René said he smelled explosives there, when he went up to their door to confirm where they were hiding. Their car—the blue one—is in the alley just the other side of the building. There are three others that also smell of guns and C-4."

"Dammit," Loris swore quietly. "We're gonna hafta get the Bomb Squad and SWAT in here."

"We can… neutralize the threat, I believe it is said," Henrí said, his voice just as soft as the human's had been. "If there are bombs, then it is our business too… I wish to claim the females, though."

'Whaddaya mean, it's your business too?" Jacobs asked, confused.

"We need one of two conditions to prevail, in order to live comfortably," Henrí explained carefully. "We either need outright war, so no one sees our kills, or we need peace and a feeling of safety among the populace. Terrorists make life difficult for us, because people become more observant, trying to protect themselves. Truthfully, _I_ prefer humans to be fat and happy; they become blind to their surroundings then—complacent."

"I can't just let you take and kill those women," Loris objected, expecting to be attacked.

But the vampire just shook his head. "I do not plan to kill them, although I _will_ use them as a food source. And if what I suspect is true of their current situation, they will very likely be willing to come with me, just for the safety I mean to provide them."

"I… don't understand why…" Loris began, only to be interrupted.

"Those men are terrorists, Detective," Henrí explained, as if to a child. "That means they are fanatics, of the worst sort. Those have a reputation for abusing the weak and helpless in their hands—especially their womenfolk. _Fear_, and pain, keep them from reporting the men's plans.

"As I said, though, we will neutralize the men. I'm sure it will be easier for all concerned if there are no survivors to complain about the missing women, no? Then I will take the women, and _you_ can call your Homeland Security and take credit for catching them.

"But, before I go, do you know how to contact this Rex—_Master_ Rex, no doubt."

"No, but I know someone who does. Here's my card; call me around dawn, an' I'll try to have a contact number for you to call. That be okay?" Loris asked somewhat hesitantly as he passed the vampire one of his cards.

Henrí grinned, then turned and vanished into the night, along with his Childe.

~o~

Up on the fire escape, Henrí watched as Jeanne tapped at the apartment's window, then convinced the women inside to invite them in. Sometimes, he thought with a bloodthirsty smirk, it paid to have a Childe who could Thrall humans. He didn't dwell on the thought, passing into the rest of the apartment from the women's quarters. And after seeing those terrified females, their bruised and bloody faces, he would take even greater pleasure in killing the men responsible. And these humans _he_ would be keeping for himself.

Shortly after that, screams could be heard coming from the apartment, screams of abject terror, along with the sounds of gunfire, though that didn't last very long at all. This was followed by a brief spate of wailing women; then silence reigned.

Loris and the uniforms waited another fifteen minutes; then, when the vampire didn't return, went to raid the apartment. The front door was open, and bodies littered the floor of the tiny living room. These were all men; there were no women at all, and no blood evident in the back room, but there were signs of hasty packing.

Loris wasn't sure what he'd tell Homeland Security when they finally arrived. Still, he took out his cell phone and dialed the precinct. "Call Homeland," he told the girl who'd answered the phone. "We found a terrorist safe house."

~oOo~

Shortly after his return from Chicago, Rex had realized that he would actually have to hold Court if he meant to keep his territory. The other vampires in the area would have to have a place to see him, to air their complaints and concerns, present their petitions. He did not want them anywhere near his Stable, though; this meant another purchase of property, since it would be inconvenient to have the humans suddenly decide to resume occupancy of whatever structure he decided to use.

That proved to be a quick and easy purchase, far simpler than the old school had been. Granted, he could have used one of the buildings on his current property—the auditorium, even—but he felt that a greater distance would be preferable. The small factory he settled on was only a mile from his lair and had only been empty for five or so years. A brief trip to his lawyer with the specifics, and shortly the place was his also. His bank accounts—both local and offshore—were very healthy now and barely felt the cost.

He hadn't done much with the interior of the factory. An improved generator, new wiring and plumbing—one never knew what might come up in the future—and the removal of the previous occupants' detritus was the major part of the renovation work. The factory area itself had no windows, so there was no danger from sunlight; he had mirror-glass installed in the office windows, but solid walls put up just behind them to block out all chance of sunlight there. He had some walls knocked out in the front office area to make a reasonable-sized waiting room; the factory's production floor was turned into an audience hall, although it was not very extravagant. The supply/storage rooms in the rear were turned into private audience and conference rooms, more comfortably furnished. A new commercial refrigerator was kept stocked with blood in case refreshments were called for.

All this, for the necessity of actually holding Court, which he now did twice a week. He had five Master Vampires living with their own households in his territory now; the arrangement seemed to be working well. His stable was safely distant from danger, and he had a fixed location to interview any newcomers to his territory.

There were not many who stayed to hunt here, for his rules for hunting were exacting. Not many wished to comply, but the penalty was strictly enforced—final death for defiance. Aside from that, though, he left the other households to themselves, only providing the number for the blood bank's director so they could make their own arrangements for purchasing bagged blood.

Court bored him, but it was a necessity, so he held it. While it wasn't really human-friendly, he frequently brought Taylor with him, just for the company. Truth be told, he enjoyed showing off for his Pet, so he sparred with the members of his court, and even watched and cheered Taylor on when he took a turn—but only with carefully selected opponents. He didn't want any accidents where Taylor was concerned.

Taylor had just finished a bout with the Childe of one of the other households, to light applause and laughter, when a new group entered the hall. Taylor quickly moved back to his cushion beside his Master's chair, although he didn't sit. He wasn't anywhere near as fast as the vamps, and couldn't afford to waste time getting up again if things turned sour. Rex just watched from his seat, his Childe in a chair at his other side. Nick moved so he stood to Taylor's side, but slightly in front of the Pet, as an unofficial bodyguard.

It was a larger group than normal. A vee of five vampires came first, one who was obviously the Master in the lead. Back between the arms of the vee were three black-shrouded women and four children, three girls—also covered from head to foot—and a small boy. These were humans, Rex noted in some surprise. Taylor frowned—the humans looked like some of the Muslim women he'd seen in Afghanistan during his Army tour there. The vampires stopped a respectful distance back from Rex's seat, their leader bowing slightly while his followers gave much deeper bows. The humans all went to their knees, the children huddling close to the older women—no doubt their mothers.

"You are?" Rex asked, keeping a level voice. He had no need to act belligerent, here in his own Court. He had always felt disdain for Masters who threatened or blustered at strangers—it impressed no one, after all; merely highlighted the Masters' own insecurity.

"I am Henrí François Villon, of Delacroix," the newcomer replied, looking back at Rex with calm eyes and confident—but not cocky—demeanor. "I wish to establish a place for my household, here in your territory. We have not hunted here since our arrival… although we did have a run-in with some of your authorities last night. We killed, but it was sanctioned—the humans had killed two police officers. We were witnesses, Master _(that_ title hurt, but was necessary at the moment), so I waited for the authorities to lead them to the killers. I…had heard about your rules on killing humans before coming here."

"Yet you still killed without permission?" Rex asked, his voice deceptively mild.

The newcomer was not fooled. "They were terrorists, and had explosives. And the detectives there knew what I was, it seemed." He stopped at the dangerous light in Rex's eyes, for Rex could only think of two police officers that would know about vampires.

"You dared to touch _my __**marked**_ humans?" the Master Vampire began to snarl, but the newcomer shook his head.

"I did not touch them, nor did my people. And the detectives did not carry your scent, Master Rex. But they are not the only policemen who know about you, or so I gathered.

"I offered to take out the terrorists for them, for I knew that _we_ could do that which might get the humans killed. All I asked for was custody of the women and children kept by the men. These are them, here with me now. The detective was reluctant at first, but he agreed at last. And so we did, and I am here now, with my _full_ household, to apply for leave to establish a lair."

Rex looked at his petitioner. This vampire was not young. He had an accent that placed his origins in the South—Louisiana; maybe a Creole, even. And there were two Childer at his heels who were no recent turnings, either; one, at least, was nearly a Master in his own right. They would be good additions to his territory. "What do you mean to do with the humans?" he asked, deceptively calm. He could smell blood on two of them under their concealing robes.

"I mean to start a Stable with them, if I have a secure territory to establish myself in," Henrí replied carefully. "They are with me willingly—their former mates had abused them terribly, and they fear for the safety of their daughters and themselves at the hands of the rest of their community, should they return to them. I am, apparently, the lesser evil."

Taylor had edged over to Rex, since it seemed as if there would be no violence. He spoke softly, so the women wouldn't hear. _"Sharia_ law can be vicious in the wrong hands, Master. The innocent can easily become the victims of violent men who hide their own evil behind their religion."

"I know, my Pet," Rex answered, although he never looked away from the supplicant. "I do not allow innocents to be killed in my territory," he said to the other vampire, reaching a decision. "Only criminals may be taken: Pimps, drug dealers, muggers, and murderers, and those last only if taken in the act. Their crime is to be cut into their foreheads, clearly labeling why they were chosen. Do not kill more than absolutely necessary to live. If you must take out bodyguards also, turn them if it is possible to bring away the bodies, but stake them as soon as they rise. I do not want my territory overrun with minions. You may increase your Stable, but only with the willing, _if_ they are in need.

"I do not tolerate child abuse in any form. Any children in your stable are to be educated, and allowed to leave if they wish once they are adults.

"If you agree to abide by these laws, and are willing to stand surety that your household does also, you may establish a territory. We can discuss your preferences for location later. I hold court on Sunday and Thursday nights, from dark to midnight, if you have any concerns that I might need to be aware of.

"Break my laws, and I will stake you and yours myself, and take your humans for my own." Rex was in gameface for that final decree.

"I understand, and will abide by your will, Master," Henrí answered with a deep bow. His Childer and minions went to their knees, heads tilted to the side to expose their throats, to indicate their obedience. Truly, Henrí was pleased. Rex would be a strong Master; his new lair just might be safe. He straightened and followed when the Twin Cities' Master led the way back to his conference room to hammer out the rest of their understanding, leaving his household to herd his newly acknowledged Stable to safety at the side of the main chamber.

~oOo~

VAMPIRE VIGILANTE FOILS TERRORISTS

Sources have announced that local authorities broke up a terrorist cell due to information provided by the notorious and mysterious Vampire Vigilante. Guns and explosives were discovered early this morning in the…

~oOo~

"Y'know, Murphy, those vampires can be handy to have around sometimes," Loris said quietly. He had followed the other detective into the break room, catching him alone.

"Yeah; just don't be thinkin' they're harmless," the other man returned with a sigh. "They're strong, an' fast, an' have other concerns than us. Just don't ever think they're tame, okay? They're predators, an' dangerous."

"I know. They're safe only as long as it suits 'em," Loris agreed. "Still, I think that the terrorists in this city better watch out; they've been added to the list of acceptable prey, I'd say."

"An' I, for one, won't be cryin' over that," Murphy said, glaring at no one in particular. He was a first-generation son of Irish immigrants, and his familial accent tended to be more apparent when he became emotional over an issue. "It's why me Da brought me Mum here—t' escape th' violence back in Ireland. I _don't_ want t' see it here, an' if Master Rex wants t' be adding' _those_ cowards t' that list o' his, more power to 'im, says I." He finished brewing his tea and left for his desk without another word, slamming the door behind himself.

Loris just looked thoughtfully at the closed door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Homeland Security had come to Minneapolis, bringing anger and frustration as their "gift" to the local police force. It seemed as though they did nothing but flail around ineffectually, refusing all help from the locals, and obstructing their rightful cases.

It was Captain Hendricks who, frustrated beyond all reason one day after his morning briefing with their so-called liaison, looked at Murphy and Sullivan. "If that blood-sucking freak of yours has such high connections, why can't he make these assholes grow some brains an' actually _work_ with us?" he snarled, his face red with fury.

The two detectives exchanged glances. Detective Loris had described in full his encounter with the vampire—_Master_ Vampire—who'd called himself Henrí, over beers at their local bar a few evenings after the fact. Homeland Security couldn't find other terrorists, although documents found in the apartment indicated that they had not been the only cell there. What made the Twin Cities so important, Homeland Security had no clue; to date, the Feds hadn't been able to find the slightest trace of any other terrorists. Still, the vampires' senses were so much more acute, and they could go where the authorities could not.

"Hey, easy there, Cap'n," Sullivan soothed, motioning Murphy out of the bullpen with a jerk of his head. The detective got the hint, heading out the door while Sully chivvied the captain back into his office.

Murphy headed down the street towards their favorite coffee shop, pulling out a rarely-used cell phone as he walked. He knew why he'd been elected to make this call; their vampiric Master seemed to favor him over his partner. He hit the speed-dial and waited. It was answered on the third ring.

"This better be important," a man hissed in a lowered voice. It wasn't Rex himself, Murphy noted, guessing that it must be either Collins or Taylor, probably the latter.

"This's Murphy. We've got a problem we're hopin' th' Master c'n help us with," the detective explained, picking his words with care. "It…concerns the Feds who've come since last week's excitement. They need reinin' in—c'n th' Master talk t' someone about it? We're not able t' do our own jobs, since they've come inta town."

There was the sound of soft footsteps, then a door closed quietly in the background. Now the man on the phone spoke more normally, and Murphy could tell that it was, in fact, Taylor. "What are they, ATF?" the vampire's Pet asked in a very concerned manner.

"Nah. Homeland Security. We've… kept mention of our nocturnal help from 'em—just said it was a 'concerned citizen' as called it in. But they're interferin' know-it-all assholes as can't be told anythin'." The detective's brogue grew thicker as he spoke.

"Hey, easy there, Murphy," the other man laughed softly, understanding all too well what _that_ situation was like. "I'll talk t' Master Rex when he wakes up, make some calls myself if he won't. How's your captain takin' all this, anyway?"

"Badly," Murphy admitted with a snort of humor at the understatement. "Truth be told, callin' th' Master were _his _suggestion, though I'm not sure if he were serious or not. _Or_ if he thought we'd actually do it."

"This is Master Rex's territory; keeping things running smoothly is his job. One of us'll be back in touch with ya, Murph. Gotta go now… 'bye."

Murphy put his phone away and headed into the coffee shop. He'd just bring back some treats, as an explanation for his absence if any of those jerks were actually watching them. And he grinned at his next thought: Those pompous asses wouldn't know what hit them soon.

~oOo~

Taylor grinned as he watched the man he'd come to meet leave the arrivals jetway. Though in civvies, there could be no doubt that this man was military, and it wasn't just his haircut. The man looked around, and his demeanor changed the instant he locked eyes with Taylor, his face now split by a huge smile. He strode forward without the slightest hesitation, hand forward to clasp the waiting man's.

"Taylor, good to see you," he said, his cheerful greeting lighting his eyes. "I _will_ say I'm somewhat surprised; I'd expected Collins."

"Captain. Collins is getting your rooms ready; you'll stay at the lair, with the rest of the household. Rex has to renew your mark anyway…"

"Not a problem," Williamson said, watching Taylor relax at that comment. "I've already arranged for a room downtown, though; I thought it might be easier to deal with everything if I were more accessible to all parties concerned."

"Hmm. You could be right," Taylor agreed as he led the way to baggage claim. "You'll have to take that up with Master Rex, though. _My_ orders are to bring you straight out to the lair."

"What? No search in the men's room first?" Williamson teased, recalling his first trip out to meet with the vampire. He'd been instructed to leave _all_ electronics in a bus-station locker; he'd been searched, and even his luggage had been gone through.

But the smile that didn't fade told Taylor that the JAG lawyer bore no ill-will for _that_ greeting. "Nah. You're family now—if just peripherally," he laughed back. "I heard about that, though. Collins was afraid Master Rex would take it out of his hide, but he wasn't going to put the Master at risk."

"After seeing the conditions down at Hunter Base, I didn't blame him in the least," Williamson admitted with a frown, then grinned up at Taylor. "Is it paranoia if someone really _is_ out to get you?" He stepped forward and picked his overnight bag off the luggage carousel. He understood vampire status now, and knew that Taylor would never carry anyone's bags… except Rex's, and only if no one else was there to do it instead.

"Not in _that_ company," Taylor snarked back with a laugh of his own, leading the way out to where he'd left the car. "You're gonna find a lot of the same now, I hear," he warned the captain.

"So I've been told. Don't worry; they can't fight what _I_ brought with me this time. Is Master Rex gonna come to the conference?"

"I don't think that would be wise," Taylor said with an adamant shake of his head. "The law-enforcement community still is officially unaware of the Master, although the knowledge _is_ spreading throughout the local police departments. He's claimed two detectives in Homicide, much like he did you, Captain…"

"Please, just call me Eric," Williamson said, cutting Taylor off. "Since you say I'm family now."

"Okay. Just so's you know, Rex calls you 'my JAG,' so you just may end up being called Jag."

Williamson laughed. "I've been called a helluva lot worse things than that. But you were saying: Homicide detectives?"

"Yeah, right," Taylor got his mind back on track. "Murphy and Sullivan. They were working the Vampire Vigilante cases—an' believe me, Rex's been keeping them busy. But shortly after we got back from St. Louis, he took the fanged boys out hunting, an' Corey rescued the two cops from some gang-bangers—he can tell you the whole story later. Important thing is, he had to dust that Ray creep, and Murphy had to be hospitalized. Master Rex claimed them both while Murph was still an inpatient.

_"Anyway,_ he an' Sully eventually spilled the beans to the other guys in their department; they'd already told their captain about Rex some time earlier."

"Yeah—he called me," Williamson laughed at that memory. "Sounded like a bear with a thorn in his paw, all snarl and bluster. I hit him with the Patriot Act, and he crumbled like a tissue in a hurricane."

Taylor chuckled at the mental image as he unlocked the car. "Uh-huh. So, a bunch of Homicide guys knew that vamps are real, and talk spread from there. Good thing, too. But the _really_ crazy part is that none of the locals are even hinting about vamps to the Feds. 'Course, that could just be due to the fact that their attitude really sucks."

"So I've been told," Williamson said again, settling back for the ride out to the lair.

They'd barely gotten out of the parking garage when a police cruiser pulled in behind their car, lights flashing. Taylor threw a quick glance over at the JAG, but he pulled over to the side of the road, rolled down his window, got out his license, and waited.

One cop approached the passenger side—wise, considering the traffic in the area. His partner stayed well back, but stood where he could see clearly. Taylor and Williamson exchanged looks again.

"What's up, officer?" Taylor asked curiously, handing the cop his driver's license without being asked.

The man took it and compared the picture to Taylor, then looked at Williamson. "They want to see you, down at the main precinct. If you would follow me…?" It wasn't a question so much as an order.

But Taylor shook his head. "He'll be in later. There's someone he's gotta go see first," Rex's Pet said in a calm but firm voice.

"My captain said…"

"Your captain doesn't give orders to the military," Taylor cut the young patrolman off firmly. "He'll be in, _later._ Right now, he's just got in from DC and needs to eat and clean up. You can tell your captain that…or he can go talk to Murphy and Sullivan down in Homicide. _I_ have orders to bring him to _my_ superior, and frankly, I think he has precedence here. There anything else, Officer?"

The man looked as if he'd been slapped in the face. Wordlessly, he handed back the driver's license, then stepped back from the car. He'd heard rumors, but hadn't known what to make of them. He was joined, though, by his partner as they watched the big black SUV signal, then pull out into traffic once more.

"Who was that?" the partner asked.

"License said Robert Taylor; claims his passenger is military."

"Huh!" the second man said, then they turned and walked back to their cruiser.

~o~

Mid-afternoon, Captain Williamson, in full uniform, strode into the main police headquarters. Taylor, though in civvies, walked at his side with just as correct a military bearing. They stopped at the front desk, and it was all Taylor could do to suppress a grin at all the gawking stares they got. But _he_ was just there as backup, so he settled in to enjoy the show.

"I need to see whoever is in charge of your counterterrorism division," Williamson said, not offering his credentials yet.

The desk sergeant gazed at him blandly. "ID?" he requested in a bored tone, but got a shark-smile back.

"That's need-to-know, Sergeant—and you don't. Call someone, please; they're expecting me."

The sergeant's bland manner abruptly changed, growing harder. "Step through the metal detector, sir—and open your briefcase."

_"That_ contains confidential materials that are protected by lawyer-client privilege." Williamson seemed to be enjoying himself now.

"Look, Bub—you don't open that bag, you don't get in." The man's temper was badly fraying.

Taylor just took out his cell phone and dialed. It was quickly answered. "Murphy? Taylor here—we're down in the lobby, facing a Rottweiler of a desk sergeant. Send someone, okay?" He ended the call just as the desk sergeant grabbed the phone out of his hand. It crashed against the far wall, drawing everyone's attention. Taylor just looked at him calmly. _"That_ was a mistake, Sergeant. Don't compound it by touching me," he said, but there could be heard no actual threat in his voice.

_"Hughes!_ What the _hell_ are you doing?!" A man with captain's bars came running from a back office, taking in the scene and blanching.

"These jokers came in here, refusing to comply with security measures," the sergeant snapped back without remorse.

"I had to call a detective upstairs to try to move things along," Taylor said, holding his own anger in check. "He smashed my phone for that."

"I'm _so_ sorry," the Captain apologized, throwing black looks at the outraged desk sergeant. "I'll deal with _you_ later," he promised grimly.

"Let's just get this show on the road, shall we?" Williamson said, trying to calm the situation once more. He had his own share of guilt in this, he thought with regret.

"Yeah. This way, gents," the captain said with one last glare at his sergeant. "We'll see your phone is replaced, sir," he added for Taylor's benefit, who just shook his head, then went over to retrieve the pieces.

"I'll get a new one myself; don't sweat it. He didn't touch _me,_ so you're okay."

~o~

Taylor looked around the group gathered in the conference room and grinned at the way they studied him so carefully. Finally one man cleared his throat and, pointedly looking at Taylor, began, "Are you…?"

"No," cut in Murphy quickly. "He's not." And that was all anyone would say about Master Rex.

It made Taylor smile slightly. "Gentlemen, this is Captain Williamson, Army JAG Corps. He's my employer's lawyer (the two Homicide detectives almost snickered at that) and has something to offer you in the way of assistance."

Williamson treated these men with his patented shark-grin. "I understand that you've been having severe problems with the people Homeland Security sent in. I have with me documents that will force them to work not only with _you,_ gentlemen, and lady, but with the specialized personnel that my client can command. And if they do not cooperate, you will have quite a large stick with which to beat them into submission. The Feds, I mean. Mr. Taylor, here, will be the liaison for my client's people, along with Detectives Sullivan and Murphy."

Knowing looks lit the eyes of several of the police captains present. The Chief of Police just looked a bit confused, letting Williamson know that he wasn't one of the Informed. He sighed, hoping this wouldn't be a problem. "I understand that the agent in charge of the Homeland group is waiting; could you please have him brought in?"

The AIC stalked in, a belligerent bulldog of a man, convinced of his own superiority over these pathetic local-yokel cops. He paused slightly at seeing Williamson, but continued on confidently after that. "What's going on here?" he demanded abruptly. "I'm busy; got no time to play your stupid games."

Once more the shark-grin. "Oh, I believe you'll be more than happy to _make_ time—Agent Hyman, I believe it is," the JAG said in as pleasant a voice as he could muster. "My superiors have received more than a few complaints about your extreme lack of cooperation with the local authorities. They've heard that you refuse to make use of readily available, _skilled_ local talent, and have caused as much friction as is humanly possible. From what I've seen here already, I tend to believe it. So…"

Williamson reached into his briefcase and took out a number of manila folders, each marked Top Secret. He passed these around to everyone at the table, along with a non-disclosure agreement form, and then started passing around another sheet for all to sign to acknowledge receipt of the classified material. Even Murphy and Sullivan got a set. Everyone seated there reached for their folders, though they didn't open them yet—all except for Agent Hyman, who looked at his as if it were a snake about to bite him. The JAG smirked; for all intents and purposes, that was _exactly_ what was about to happen. He looked around at the gathered men and women, verifying that each had signed the forms before continuing. "Before you, each of you has a copy of a Presidential Finding (1) detailing just how this is going to work. Your people have had no luck so far, Agent Hyman, locating any more safehouses or bomb-making facilities, so the local PD's Counterterrorism Unit will take lead on that. You _will_ share any and _all_ information you've acquired so far with any people the PD assigns. They, in turn, will inform you when a raid is going to go down, _if they have time _beforehand; your people will _assist_ in all post-raid investigations.

"The local PD will work with the people—called here 'Rex's People'—my client will send to you when they find something

"And God help you, Agent Hyman, if it is even _suspected_ that a raid is burned out of spite or intentional incompetence. Is that clear enough for everyone?" Williamson glared around the table. The police officials all looked pleased by this outcome; the Homeland Security AIC looked as if he'd just been hit by rotten eggs.

~o~

Outside the conference room, Murphy and Sullivan waited for Taylor and Williamson with two people in civvies, but who carried an unconscious air of authority. One, a short man, had a look about him that spoke of an irascible temper just barely held in check. The other was a tall, competent-looking black woman. Both had been in at the meeting, but Taylor hadn't bothered to catch any of their names.

It was Murphy who stepped forward. "Taylor, you an' the captain have a minute or ten? M' captain and Captain Lewis here would like a private word with ya."

"Sure. Where? Back in the conference room okay?" Taylor asked, heading back in without waiting for an answer. Williamson went with him without question, followed by the four policemen. They settled back down at the table, where Taylor looked around at them, particularly the two captains. "So… what can _I_ do for you, besides what's been managed?"

"Captain Lewis… is uncertain just what happened to some missing civilians from the last raid," Murphy cautiously began. "She's captain of the Counterterrorism Unit."

"Ah. The 'missing civilians,' as you put it, were the battered wives and children of the men that Villon's family took out—do you know about him, Captain Lewis?" Taylor paused in his answer to ask.

"No—should I?" she asked, studying him curiously.

Taylor sat back in his chair with a sigh, staring at the ceiling as he wondered where to begin. It made his claiming-scar visible. Finally he looked back at her. "How much do you know about Rex, or the so-called Vampire Vigilante?" he asked slowly, watching the two captains for their reactions. Captain Hendricks understood, he saw; Lewis, he wasn't so sure about.

"I've… heard some scuttlebutt," she said, not wanting to commit or admit to anything just yet. "Rumor says that it's a real vampire. No one is proving anything, though."

Another sigh—long-suffering, this time. "Sorry; I'm just tired of explaining," Taylor apologized. "Rex is the Vampire Vigilante, and he is a real vampire. The military _and_ our government know that vampires and other demons are real—they've done some really stupid things with them over the years, too. Anyway, Master Rex—that's his proper title, by the way—is only killing hardened criminals so _I_ won't get too upset with him. He's also buying bagged blood now, so he and his family—two other vamps attached to him—don't hafta kill as often; he's doing his best to keep me happy so I'll stay with him willingly. The whole Twin Cities area is his territory; he rules it like a duke would have, back in the Middle Ages. Other vampires hold hunting ranges under him, like lesser lords. Henrí Villon is one of them, a Master Vampire who acknowledges Rex as _his_ Master. He's fairly new in town, but he and his household—the vamps that are under _him—_are the ones who found that safehouse. He's got the missing women and kids. They're safe now—safer than they were with the guys the vamps killed. He's keeping them as the core of his Stable."

She looked at him in disbelief, but none of the others said anything to object to what he'd said. "You _do_ know that sounds crazy, right?" she finally commented.

"Oh, yeah—but everyone else said the same thing when _they_ heard this, too, so don't feel bad," Taylor said.

"So… this is real? Vampires, I mean? And… what's a Stable?" she asked, although she had her suspicions.

"It's real. A Stable is humans kept for a food source—they won't be killed, though. And vamps sometimes claim other humans as minions—servants, that would be—if they prove themselves useful or particularly skilled. Of course, the _vamp_ sees such humans as their property."

"Yeah, like Murph an' me," Sullivan confessed with a chuff of laughter, showing the bite-mark on his wrist. Captain Hendricks gaped at that; he hadn't known that his two detectives were so closely tied to the vampire. "It's why the JAG came, Captain—you asked for the Master's aid, so we got ya some help."

"I'm his too," Williamson said, showing his own wrist which sported a raw-looking bite-mark also.

"And you?" Lewis asked, looking at Taylor. "You're a… minion too?"

He smiled at her. "No; I'm something different, something special. I'm his Pet—his favored human. It… started back when I was in the military… but the rest is classified still. It means, though, that I outrank everyone in the Twin Cities except Rex and his Childe Corey—in vampire eyes, anyway. Corey's got his own Pet; Dobbs ranks just below me. It's… complicated."

"I would say so," she actually chuckled, but quickly sobered. "So… women and kids are being kept as a vampire's prisoners?"

"No. Protected, sheltered, and cared for, but not prisoners," Taylor stated without reservation. "Master Henrí brought them to Court the night after he… acquired them. He came to Rex for permission to hunt—don't ask; it's a vampire thing. Master Rex called a doctor he has on retainer to come check them out before he'd let Henrí take them away. They'll be checked over every month now, just like Rex's Stable is. In return, Henrí and his family will look for more terrorists in their territory and notify the authorities when they find any. They'll keep any women and kids they find, though."

"That's slavery!" Lewis protested, shocked and furious.

"Not…really," Williamson interjected carefully. "These women were afraid of what others might to do them, and their daughters. Please remember that we are actually dealing with religious fanatics—not upstanding citizens or harmless refugees. You haven't seen the scars and wounds left on them by their former 'menfolk.'" He made no effort to hide his disgust with any man who would treat a woman or child that way. "In their eyes, even a demon was the better option, no matter how they were subsequently treated. You almost expect abuse from a demon, after all. Master Rex won't tolerate it, though."

She still frowned, but put on her official face once more. "You said that… vampires… will be happy to look for more terrorists. Why?"

Taylor looked uncomfortable now. "Henrí said it best, when Rex asked him that same question. They do best in either outright war, or in times of peace. Terrorists just make people jumpy, and harder to hunt and hide from. Vamps do tend to be opportunistic that way. And very self-serving."

"So… they'll work with us, because it makes _their_ lives easier?"

"Basically," Taylor confirmed. "You'll get calls from the other vamp households, too; Rex ordered the whole Court to be on the lookout when they go hunting. Counting my Master's, that makes seven households of vampires with extremely sharp senses. They'll find 'em, if there're others around. Trust me on that, okay?"

Captain Hendricks just paled. "Seven _households?!"_ he gasped. "How many vampires _are _there?!"

"I'm not really sure," Taylor admitted slowly. "At a guess, I'd say not over fifty, though; many are drinking purchased bagged blood, and they don't each kill every night when they do hunt. They help keep down other aggressive demon-types, too."

"My God!" Hendricks said, sitting back in his chair with a _thump._

"Hey, it could be worse," Taylor offered what solace he could. "At least Rex has set rules that he enforces strictly. Most vamps prefer to go after the homeless and at-risk types, like hookers and junkies, just because they're easy prey. _And_ runaways—to eat, not shelter like Rex does. Places like LA are really dangerous at night—trust me, I know; I'm from there.

"The President has been made aware of all of this," Williamson said with his own sigh. "He has extended immunity to the vampires here, so long as they confine themselves to eating only criminals, and try to otherwise maintain a low profile. He wasn't happy about it, but it was necessary, due to… other factors. They're covered under the Patriot Act, by the way—information about them is _not_ to be made public knowledge. That's stated in that Finding you were given, by the way."

"Great," snarked Hendricks.

Taylor just smiled. "Hey, at least you'll get real _help_ now, instead of what you've been getting."

"There _is_ that," Murphy laughed, despite the glare from his captain.

And Captain Lewis just shook her head before rising to go make what preliminary arrangements she could.

~oOo~

**TERRORISTS FOILED AGAIN**

The Vampire Vigilante provided information which led authorities to several terrorist safehouses. Bomb-making materials, and caches of firearms were confiscated by Homeland Security in five coordinated raids early this morning…

**Notes**

(1) According to Wikipedia, a Presidential Finding is defined as an "executive directive, similar to the more well-known executive order." The contents of these documents can range from public knowledge to so highly classified that only those people directly involved even know they exist.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Tell me this, then, Captain Williamson: In your opinion, is this Master Rex likely to continue acting in the best interests of the general populace, even if something should happen to former Sergeant Taylor?"

The JAG captain looked at the panel of generals in concern. "Sir, surely you can't mean to…"

One of the other men waved away his objections. "Of course not, but Taylor _is_ only human. Accidents happen. What is Rex likely to do if the worst _does_ happen, Captain?"

He'd been summoned here deep in the middle of the Pentagon to face these powerful and influential men, the military's version of a Congressional committee. He had no idea of just what was at stake here, and that fact alone concerned him deeply. So far they had been grilling him for two hours, with the questions ranging from what he'd seen while at the vampire's nest to what he'd heard the Stable Kids talking about.

He took a deep breath before taking the plunge. "Sirs, I would say that it all depends on the actual circumstances. If Taylor were to die a natural death, I would guess that Master Rex will continue on much as he has. He isn't stupid; he knows that Taylor is mortal and, short of being turned, will someday die of old age or disease.

"Sickness is shakier ground; that would probably depend on whether or not the doctors tried to save him, and how the illness was actually contracted.

"Death due to an accident would be even iffier; again, I think it would all depend on the circumstances. Still, it is highly likely—in _my_ opinion, obviously—that he would continue as he has begun, to honor Taylor's memory. And vampires have _very_ long memories. Plus anything done to make him pleased with humans before that would, I think, increase the chances that he would continue to behave favorably toward us.

"Naturally, if some human should kill Taylor, all bets would be off, _especially_ if it were a government sanction gone wrong."

Williamson hid his unease as the panel of generals shot unsettled looks at each other.

Finally, their chairman cleared his throat. "Thank you for your honest answers, Captain. If you would care to wait in the outer chamber in case we have any further questions…?" he said.

Williamson knew that was just a very polite order. He rose from his seat, came to attention, then spun and silently left the room. As the door closed behind him, he could hear their voices, already raised in dissension, as they argued whatever course of action they'd been contemplating before his arrival. He lowered himself into one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs in the outer room and composed himself to wait. To his surprise, he was released to return to his office after only ten minutes or so, with verbal orders to keep himself available.

By the time he'd gotten back to his duty station, orders had been issued and a lengthy set of instructions prepared for him. Alone in his office once more, he leafed through those instructions and grimaced, looking at his piled-up casework in disgust. Finally he sighed, and, travel orders in hand, he headed for his CO's office to notify him that, once again, he had to go to Minnesota.

That done—and he didn't want to remember some of what his normally mild-tempered CO had said about those orders—he headed back to his apartment to pack once more, and to call and warn Collins of his arrival, by government jet this time. Said jet, he saw, would be standing by for further travel, even though _he_ would then be returning immediately by commercial flight. It would be awaiting his arrival, fueled and ready on the tarmac, as soon as he could get there.

~oOo~

The place smelled the same: sand, dust, spice, sweat.

That was Taylor's first thought as he followed Rex down the jet's airstairs and out into the sunlight. It was fall-going-on-winter, and the weather wasn't all that different from what they'd just left. He shifted uncomfortably in the uniform he'd been given, to "blend in," the instructions said. He could only wonder what the vampire thought. The nearby soldiers just thought they were one more Nightstalker team arriving in-country—those in the know, at least.

"Sirs? If you would come this way, please…?"

They climbed into the Humvee their escort indicated, Rex looking around them curiously. He'd never been out of the States before, either as a human or as a vampire, and things looked very strange to him. The smells alone were nearly overwhelming. And while Taylor appeared very calm, his scent betrayed his uneasiness. Rex knew that his Pet had been here before—in this country, if not _here_ specifically. And he wondered at the bitter undertone of sorrow he could smell from his normally content human. He would ask about that later, once they were alone.

Finally, their transport stopped, and they were directed towards a sandbagged building. Taylor led the way in, until Rex sensed another vampire somewhere up ahead. Without a second thought, he pushed his Pet behind himself, ready to fight to protect his own. Ahead he saw a man, uniformed and covered up as he was, look at him oddly, then gently edge _his_ companion back to a safer position also.

"Hey, man, what's up?" the other vampire said easily. "You must be new to the unit; I don't recognize you. And who's your companion? I thought I knew all the guys waitin' for one of us."

Rex stared at him in disbelief, until Taylor nudged him and chuckled. "Hey, Rex, we're not in Kansas—ah, Minnesota anymore, right? Chill out; he's probably a Nightstalker. He's not a threat to me, 'kay?" But Taylor didn't try to walk around him or offer a hand, as the other human did.

"Sergeant Willie Keever and Glenn," the soldier said, stopping just beside the other vampire. "Welcome to the Rockpile. The Old Man is waitin' in his office for ya; thought you'd feel more comfortable if we came out to greet ya."

"He's not from our unit, Kee," the vampire said, testing the scent coming from the newly arrived pair. "He's a wild vamp… an' a Master, at that. An old one. Stay back here with me, okay?"

Rex tried to force himself to relax. He had been uneasy about going near the military again, of putting on a uniform once more. He _would_ have preferred to leave Taylor at home, safe, but the instructions had said that his Pet _had_ to go with him. That alone had him on edge. Running into another vampire so unexpectedly didn't help matters. Finally, he took an unneeded breath and pushed his head coverings off—they were far enough from the door to do that, now.

"I am Master Rex of Whittington; this is my Pet, Taylor," he finally introduced them both.

The other vamp nodded, although his companion looked a bit puzzled at the introduction. "He's wild, Kee, remember? Not one of us; _and_ he's a Master. He thinks about Taylor like Master Tony does _his_ Pet."

"He don't call 'im a Pet, though." Keever protested mildly.

"He does where you don't hear him. Hush now, though. This isn't a situation you know how to deal with," Glenn said, still keeping a watchful eye on the newcomers.

"Is he your Pet, or a minion?" Rex asked curiously, also closely watching the other pair.

"Somewhere in between, I guess," Glenn answered with a chuckle. "I marked him, but I'll get another when his hitch is up, if he doesn't re-up. Still, he's mine for now."

"I see," Rex said, relaxing further. "I would not let Taylor go…"

"And, boy, am I glad for _that,"_ Taylor said, speaking for the first time. "Former Sergeant Rob Taylor, pleased t' meetcha." He still didn't try to move around Rex or offer his hand. Rex half-turned and gently cuffed Taylor on the back of his head; the human just smiled and shifted closer to his vamp.

"You say that your CO is awaiting us—where is his office?" Rex asked, deciding finally that this vampire was no threat to Taylor.

"Down here," Glenn said, turning and heading back the way he'd come. He finally tapped on a door-frame, sticking his head inside. "Hey, Colonel, the new vamp-ler team is here. Rex an' Taylor." He stepped aside and grinned at Rex's scowl at that offhand introduction, but he entered the office of the waiting human.

"Come in, shut th' door, and have a seat," the colonel said, rising from his own chair until the door was shut behind his visitors. "You must be tired after your flight, so I'll be brief. I don't know what the hell the Pentagon was thinking when they wrote these orders—I'm not even sure I understand 'em. I _do_ know that I'm not at all happy at the idea of letting you just kill two US soldiers in cold blood to pay back some kind of debt you think you're owed." The colonel managed to keep his voice down despite his obvious anger.

Taylor could feel Rex about to explode beside him at this overt hostility. "Sir… Colonel Oliver," he said, reading the man's name-tape, "That's _not_ quite what's intended. Master Rex isn't going to 'just kill someone.' And he _is_ owed a debt, and even this won't begin to repay it; nothing ever can.

"Do you have kids, Colonel?"

The question took Oliver by surprise. "Yeah; what's that got to do with it?"

"Tell me, sir: How would you feel if someone took them, starved them, and performed vivisections on them with no anesthesia, reviving them time after time until they finally died, just because they had brown skin?"

Oliver looked sick at the picture he had in his mind's eye, brought about by that question.

Taylor was implacable. "That's what some government-sponsored 'scientists' did to two younger vampires that Rex had made. They were his Childer, his offspring, part of his family. We managed to recover his third Childe—he'd been tied down and cut open, his guts all exposed, and left like that for months. We almost lost him too. Oh, it was against all orders, but no one was checking on those butchers—No adequate oversight, to put it in nice, clean bureaucratese. So you tell _me_ what's owed to Rex for losing his family. Sir," Taylor snarled to a finish.

"What happened to them—the… _experimenters,_ I mean?"

"They were tried, convicted, and executed. The punishment fit the crime; they had the surviving vampire victims drain them."

"So if he's not going to kill soldiers in cold blood, just what the hell _is_ he going to do?" Oliver was a little calmer now, though he was still unhappy.

"You have soldiers who receive terminal injuries here during combat," Rex said, softening his voice as he understood the source of the human's upset. He was, after all, merely looking out for the good of his minions. "I would speak to some of them, see which might be willing to accept unlife. I do not mean to just take them, Colonel Oliver. I made _that_ mistake once, when I was a good bit younger. I will not turn someone undeserving ever again, merely for convenience's sake. I wish only good, honorable Childer. And I am willing to wait as long as it takes to find suitable candidates.

"In the meantime, I am willing to offer the services of both my Pet and myself, in the manner of the Nightstalkers." Rex waited to see how the colonel would react to that offer.

"So… you're not military. You have _any_ experience?" the human asked, trying to relax back into his chair, to look at this rationally.

"I was a soldier, before I was turned," Rex answered, then laughed. "Things were very different then; I was turned during the war against the South—I was a damned Yankee."

Oliver chuckled at that, which was Rex's intention. The colonel turned to look at the "Pet," who grinned at him.

"Former Sergeant Rob Taylor, sir. K-9 handler, multiple tours in Iraq; lost my dog and was shipped home wounded from here before transferring to the Hunter Group. _That_ was both the biggest mistake, and the best thing to ever happen to me," he answered calmly. "I can tell Rex what to do and what to watch out for, if we go out on patrol while we're here."

"You know," Oliver mused almost to himself. "I wasn't happy at the thought of vampires among my people—once I was even convinced that you were real. But they've earned their blood and saved countless lives of my soldiers. They've infiltrated enemy strongholds, captured and killed insurgent leaders, and brought back invaluable intelligence we couldn't have gotten otherwise. They've served their country honorably and well… and I _still_ can't quite trust 'em." He turned a hard glare on Rex, who merely grinned back.

"That just shows that you are smart, Colonel. You should never fully trust one of us, unless you belong to us, as Taylor does to me. Still, I gather that you have your orders. Where do we go to rest? It has been a long trip, and my Pet is both tired and hungry. _I_ can wait until tonight to feed, but someone will need to show me where to get legal blood while we are here."

Colonel Oliver glowered a bit longer, but at last he relented. "You can bed down with the Nightstalker team; the vamp can show you where to draw rations. You need anything else, talk to my clerk."

"Thank you, Colonel," Rex said politely, then turned back to the door, followed by Taylor. He found the vamp Glenn waiting a short distance down the hall as he'd expected—that team wouldn't have left their CO alone and totally unprotected with a strange "wild" vampire, if they could help it. Rex's own humans were the same way; it was the sign of a good Master.

"Cover up, Master Rex," Glenn said, pulling his own protective gear into place. "We gotta go outside, and there won't be enough shadows to go safely otherwise. I'll show you where to get your blood, once we get your Pet fed, washed, and bedded down. Okay?"

"That will serve. But where is _your_ Pet… Keever, yes?" Rex asked, knowing that it was wise to get as much information about his new surroundings as possible.

"He's gone ahead to set up quarters for you two. You sleep with him?"

Rex looked over at him sharply, while Taylor blushed. "I do not see where _that_ is any of your business," Rex snapped in irritation; he could smell his Pet's embarrassment. "Besides, I know what things are like in the military, that such is not allowed."

"Sorry, Master," Glenn replied with downcast eyes. "It's just… it gets cold here, nights, and a warm human is quite a temptation, times like that. _We_ understand, but you never know if someone's gonna be sent in to fetch us out or deliver a message. I just don't wanna see the other guys give you a hard time over it, okay?"

"They would not dare to bother _me,"_ Rex snarled at first, then thought again before continuing, "but Taylor… He has to go out among them during the day, for food and such. I would not be there to protect him then, and your colonel would be very upset with me if I had to avenge insults to him. I see your point; thank you for bringing it up."

Glenn's eyes sprang to the Master Vampire's face in shock before he regained enough control to look away once more. "Here," he said, turning into an older building. "This place has a cellar. It's reasonably sunproof and actually a little cooler during the day—_great_ in summer. Downside is, it's damp at night; Keever bitches about it messing up his electronics."

"I hope we will not be here long enough for it to be a problem," Rex said, and he realized that he meant it. He wasn't worried about his territory; Corey would do a good job overseeing it until he returned, and none of the other Masters would undermine him, because he was fair. But he missed having his stable gather around him so trustingly… an odd thing for a vampire to miss.

Still, he followed the other vampire down some stone steps that had clearly been reworked for safety, some even replaced totally, until they reached the stone-walled cellar. There he found blankets and tarps hung from the overhead beams to partition off sleeping chambers that gave at least the illusion of privacy. Two had the blankets strung across their entrances pushed aside, revealing a cot in each, with a low stand to hold their duffelbags up off the damp floor, and an old rug on the tarp-covered area under and beside the cots.

"Hey, welcome to your new home, sweet crypt-like home—for the duration, anyway," Keever joked from another such "room." Some soft jazz was playing on a stereo set up beside the human's cot.

"I have lived in worse places," Rex allowed with a slight twitch of his lips that might have been a smile trying to form.

"And you'll no doubt escape here to go back to much better. Why _are_ you here, anyway, if I might be so bold? The Old Man wasn't exactly coherent about it."

Keever was curiosity personified, Rex decided. "We will go back to my estate, where the walls are wood-panelled, the windows all have NecroGlass—you know what that is, yes?—and my stable gathers around me with trust and laughter. _And_ my bed is king-sized and covered with silk sheets," he added, throwing a disparaging glance at the narrow cot, made up with cotton sheets. He paused to see what comments that might evoke.

Glenn smiled. "Well, we don't have the Stable, and our quarters are in old underground ammo bunkers, but we've got the silk sheets at home, at least."

Rex frowned briefly, remembering the bare tile walls and floor of his cell back at Hunter Base, before Taylor had provided the sleeping pad and a blanket. He sighed, though, and put that memory back in the box it was usually locked up in.

He addressed the second part of their question. "I am here to find two humans who would consent to be my Childer. The military caused the deaths—after much needless pain and suffering, I might add—of my two oldest. My lawyer has apparently managed to convince the High Command that I am owed two new ones, so I have come to interview the personnel here and see if any wounded so severely that they would die, might prefer to be turned. At home I only allow criminals and such to be eaten; that might appeal to the men and/or women here. You understand—a chance to continue the fight against evil, yes? To continue to serve their fellow man, although they would no longer be human themselves."

Keever looked at him strangely, then seemed deep in thought. Suddenly he snapped his fingers and laughed. "The Vampire Vigilante!" he crowed, pleased at recalling the odd headlines he'd seen before this current deployment. "That's the sort of thing you're talking about, isn't it?"

"That is exactly what I am talking about," Rex answered with a smile, not admitting that it had, in fact, been him.

Keever nodded. "You'll find someone willing here, I'd bet. Most of us're crazy like that, I'd say. But c'mon, Taylor; let me show you where the can is, an' the showers. I'll take you over to mess later; Glenn can show your vamp where he can get his blood—he'll need to go there anyway, seein's it's the hospital."

Taylor fell back into his role of handler, nodding acceptance to the other human, but not looking at his Master for permission. Rex stifled a low growl at that perceived discourtesy, realizing just in time that he would have to act like one of the Nightstalkers here.

"So… blood?" he asked, looking over at his assigned escort somewhat reluctantly.

"Sure thing; this way." And Glenn led the way back up the stairs and out into the sunshine once more.

~o~

"Hey, Bloodsucker, whatcha doin' out in th' daylight?" a man asked with a laugh as the two vampires entered the building housing the main hospital complex. There was no malice in the man's voice, and it was clearly a common question, for Glenn just chuckled in response.

"I've come… to suck… my blud," he laughed back at the routine joke, paraphrasing the old Lon-Chaney-vampire shtick. "Actually, I come to make your life twice as dangerous. This is Master Rex; he's gonna be with us for a while, so…"

"So, we'll be pouring more blood down the undead's throats," another man finished, _his_ voice grudging.

"Play nice with the fang-folk, Brett," the first man warned, then turned his attention back to the vampires. "A Master, huh? We've never had more than Childer assigned here. I'm Benny—pleased ta meetcha." He did _not, _Rex noticed, offer his hand. "Lemme show ya where we keep the blood you can have; it's this way."

He gave Rex an abbreviated tour of the facility, ending at the blood bank, where it turned out he was one of the techs. "Older blood is down here," he said as he pointed to one drawer of a glass-fronted refrigerator. "How often do you want to feed, Master Rex, and how many bags? I'll put aside enough additional units for you, with Glenn's rations. There's a nuker in the break room you can use to heat it. You want a mug, or will you just bite through the bags?"

Rex looked at the tech and grinned. "You _are_ well used to us, aren't you? I would prefer to feed every other day; one unit of whole blood will be adequate while I am here, unless we are here longer than expected. If whole blood is not available, I will require two units of packed cells and one fresh-frozen plasma; there are fewer nutrients for us once the blood has been separated that way. I will not require a mug for whole blood; thank you for offering."

"That's what the vamp before Glenn said, too," the man said, nodding his head thoughtfully. "There's a small bowl you can 'reconstitute' your units in, and a coupla mugs to heat it up in down in the cabinet under the nuker. They're red; everyone here knows not to use those for anything else."

"The 'vamp before Glenn'?" Rex asked cautiously, but again the tech smiled.

"Yeah; they rotate the Nightstalker teams, so's they don't get too attached to any particular squad of men. Fewer problems with claims, or so I've heard rumored."

"Ah. Yes, that is wise," Rex answered as he looked around the blood bank once more.

"Yeah. So, anything else I can show you?"

"No; I only need to speak to the doctors now, about wounded personnel," Rex answered, growing cautious again.

"Sure. You gonna vamp someone?" the tech asked, causing Rex to turn on him sharply.

"Where did you hear that?!" he demanded in dismay.

The tech, however, just looked puzzled. "What? Nowhere; we just always wondered if they were gonna do that. Are you?"

"Possibly, if they are willing," Rex allowed, but he could see no anger in the tech's face.

"Right. Well, you'll probably want to see Captain Sinclair; he's our head trauma surgeon. You got orders for this, right?"

"Yes…"

"Okay; you shouldn't have any trouble, then. We've had some guys show some interest—ones who've been out with vamp-ler teams an' know what they can do. Those are the guys most likely to get messed up real bad anyway—the SpecOps guys. Talk to Captain Sinclair, though; he can tell you more." The tech grinned, then turned back to issue some blood to a young nurse who'd come over just then. She smiled at Rex, and Glenn also, then signed for the blood and left. He could smell no fear or revulsion on her—or on most of the hospital's people, for that matter. Vampires were clearly not hated or feared, among these people, at least. It just made Rex long for home, and his own minions, all the more.

~oOo~

Captain Sinclair wasn't really thrilled to learn of Rex's mission, but he wasn't as outraged as Colonel Oliver had been. He took the time to show the vampire around some more and introduce him to some of the on-duty nursing staff. Rex had to admire these men and women; they were here, so close to a combat zone, but went mostly unarmed to care for the wounded of either side. He saw the same nurse, her blue eyes and dark blonde hair sticking in his mind. Some of the staff were upset to learn why Rex was there, but, again, none objected strongly. He didn't stay long, not wanting to keep them from their duties. Besides, he doubted that any of these would be dying any time soon.

Taylor was sound asleep in his cot when Rex arrived back down in their temporary quarters, fed, showered, and ready for sleep now himself. He settled unhappily on his own cot, to sleep uneasily at being alone, no warm human beside him, assuring him of his Pet's safety. But he _did_ sleep at last.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Colonel asks: Will you go out with a retrieval team?" The Marine who woke Rex a week later was out of breath, having run over from the office.

"Naturally. What happened?" Rex asked, sitting up and pulling on his boots. He could hear Taylor gearing up in the "room" beside his, also awakened by the messenger's arrival.

"Vamp-ler team is out with a patrol to the east. Patrol to the northwest was ambushed; they're pinned down. Relief squad is gathering to go bring 'em back," the young Marine answered, clearly made aware of the situation so that he could brief the vampire. Less time would be wasted that way…

"They have maps?"

"Yeah; you c'n see 'em on the way out."

Rex grabbed his go-bag, already packed with a set of his sun-gear, since no one could guarantee that he could always reach shelter before sunrise. He was still uneasy, out during the day in these combat situations, but he didn't hesitate. It was what Taylor would wish, so he did it without complaint. Within three minutes, Rex and Taylor were pounding up the stairs behind their guide.

The ambushed patrol's Humvees were easy to spot from a distance; the ones at either end of the group were in flames, casting lurid shadows in the night. Sporadic gunfire could be heard, no doubt pinning the ambushed patrol in place until more insurgent fighters could be brought in to overrun the position.

Rex grinned evilly. _He_ would feed well this night; enemy fighters under these circumstances were fair game. Still, he couldn't help wondering what this patrol was doing out after dark without a vamp-ler team along. He wasn't aware of the various obstructions that had delayed their return to base until after the sun had set.

The rescue squad left their vehicles back a ways, where they were less likely to be found. They knew they were expected; the insurgents were no doubt planning to ambush them, too, when they came roaring up to rescue the first group. They did _not_ know about the vampire, though; or, if they did, they would only know about _one_ vamp-ler team—there were never two stationed in any given area, and Rex had been careful to keep out of sight during the day.

Rex led the men, cautiously slipping through the night. He found it child's play to locate the ambush set up for them, and no harder to eliminate the waiting men. Here he only drank lightly, not wanting to become sluggish before seeing the extent of the danger. The humans followed quietly in his wake, also used to working in the dark, although they needed night-vision gear to get around. They made no objections when the vampire paused briefly to feed.

Taylor was as quiet as the others, his old skills coming quickly back to him, although he wasn't as deadly as some of the rest.

Deadliest of all, though, was Rex.

He slipped through the rocks, guiding the patrol among them to where the various insurgents hid. No matter how well dug-in they were, their heartbeats gave away their hiding spots. Yes, there were one or two minor firefights as a squad member was spotted before taking out his target, but no one was seriously hurt. Rex was taking good care of these Marines, whom he considered his on loan from Glenn.

Finally he judged it safe to go down and see to the ambushed men. The blazing Humvees were darker now, the fires having burned themselves out. Of a twelve-man patrol, four had been killed outright in the initial attack, with three more dying of their wounds shortly afterwards. The rest were all at least wounded, but their lieutenant, Craig McElroy, wouldn't make it back to base alive… at least, that was Rex's opinion. The field medic who'd come out with the recovery team agreed.

Normally a boisterous red-headed Irishman, now he looked up at the men gathered around him with pain-filled, rapidly dimming eyes. They latched onto the tall pale stranger, and hope lighted in them. "You're…vamp…don't…want…t' die," he gasped out with agonizing effort.

Rex looked at him. "You will die either way, but I can give you a new life after that, if you wish. Do you want me to turn you, Lieutenant? I will, if that is your desire." He remembered seeing the man around, had even spoken to him once, but only very briefly. He had a smile and a ready joke for everyone, and was one of the men he'd heard had no family waiting for him back home. He would be a very good choice.

Rex looked around at the other men gathered there. To his relief, none seemed upset with _him_ at the thought—after all, Craig had asked the vamp first; _he_ hadn't suggested it.

"Yeah…vamp…me…" came the whispered answer.

Still Rex was cautious. "You heard?" he asked the humans who would be witness to this, a fact normally unheard of.

"Yeah; better hurry if you're gonna, though," the medic said, although he looked _really_ unhappy about the whole thing.

"Give me room, then," Rex commanded as he sat beside the dying man. Gently he raised his shoulders until the lieutenant was leaning against him, back to chest. To McElroy he said, "There will be a little pain, but very brief." And he bit the lieutenant's neck.

There wasn't much blood left to spare; Rex could already hear his heart slowing. He took two small mouthfuls of blood, then quickly slashed into his own wrist with his fangs and let his blood fall into McElroy's mouth. The feeling of liquid in his mouth made him run his tongue over his lips and swallow reflexively, and he swallowed again as Rex pressed his still-bleeding wrist against the human's parted lips.

Then his heart stopped, and he went limp in the vampire's arms.

Silence; then someone asked, "Did it work?"

Rex looked up. "We will know within three nights; he will rise by then, or not at all. It _should_ be fine; I believe he got enough of my blood. And I have never failed in a turning before. The only question is whether he will be a Childe, as I hope, or a minion, although I can still remedy that somewhat once he rises.

"But we must get him, and our wounded, back to base. And _I_ will need to feed heavily now, for I will need to feed _him,_ so he will be a strong vampire. He deserves that much, and more, for his courage and sacrifice."

He helped the patrol place McElroy and the other dead into body bags, and then loaded those and the wounded into the Humvees. These had been brought up to the ambush site once it had been deemed safe; they were started back to base, leaving one behind for Rex, Taylor, and two Marines, who were to search the bodies for any ID or other paperwork.

_That_ was when Rex discovered that Taylor had been hit in the leg. There had been so much blood around, too much going on, and his Pet hadn't _said_ anything… The vampire nearly went ballistic—he had to see to his Pet, and he had to guide the humans to the bodies of the dead insurgents.

"Look, we'll start with the guys closest to us," one of the Marines offered when he realized that Rex was torn between what _he_ wanted to do and what he thought _Taylor_ would want. "You wrap up his leg—it don't look too bad—an' he can wait here for us. There's a good place in those rocks there, and it'll go quicker if you can still guide us to the bodies, Master."

It was that "Master" that decided him. He had responsibilities now; these humans were his to protect as much as Taylor was. He bent and ripped open Taylor's pants leg and checked the wound, then wrapped some clean bandaging around the entry site. There was no exit wound, meaning the bullet would have to be removed by the doctors. Once _that_ was done, he could help the wound heal properly. He moved Taylor over to the hiding place in the rocks—it was _not_ a good idea to leave him in as inviting a target as the Humvee—and went to see to the bodies.

~o~

Forty-five minutes later, they were headed back to the base with a wealth of IDs and paperwork for the translators—unlike the usual, _these_ fools hadn't left their plans behind before starting their assault. Taylor was doing fine, only groaning slightly when they hit one of the frequent potholes in the road. He tried joking with Rex, but the vampire just kept shushing him, telling him to conserve his strength. At last Taylor obeyed, lying back on the rear seat with his head in his Master's lap.

They were five minutes out when they heard the explosions and saw the flashes from the mortar attack on the base. The driver would have hit the gas, accelerating towards the base to help, but Rex had him stop the Humvee instead, then got out to listen. He'd thought he had heard the mortar's charges igniting before each answering explosion; now he was sure of it. Taking one marine with him and leaving the other to guard Taylor, he took off at a run, just slow enough for the human to keep up with him.

He had to detour around a clump or three of huge boulders, but at last he'd located the attackers' heartbeats; it was a four-man mortar crew. They came across the insurgent's transport first, a battered old Toyota pickup truck. Rex grinned, his eyes glowing yellow in the dark. It was set for a quick escape back into the hills, but they hadn't expected anyone to come from this direction. They had waited until the relief patrol had returned to the base, not realizing that there was still one Humvee out there—the middle vehicle from the original patrol had still been in working order, and they had managed to pull one of the burned-out ones out of the way to free it.

They killed three out of the four-man crew serving the mortar. Rex took the oldest-looking man alive, to bring back to the base for questioning. And maybe, just maybe, that Colonel Oliver would let him eat the bastard once they were done with him. Again the bodies were searched, then Rex hoisted the terrorist over his shoulder for the trip back to their vehicle.

They arrived back at the base to a scene of total chaos. The hospital had been hardest hit; it seemed that it had been intentionally targeted. Rex was furious, fearing that his new Childe-to-be had been destroyed before he even had a chance to rise. And how would he get Taylor looked at now?

He left his Pet out in the Humvee, stalking into the partially demolished building to see if there was anyone who could be pulled away to see to Taylor. He found Dr. Sinclair, up to his elbows in blood, it seemed, as he tried to help recover bodies from the rubble. Rex paused; here again, if he helped, he would get the results he wanted quicker.

So he stopped and listened, then pulled the rescuers away from that pile. "There is no one alive under there," he said as gently as he could. "I hear heartbeats in the next room, though. I will help you dig out the dead, once the still-living have been saved."

"Where'd you come from, Bloodsucker?" he heard a broken-sounding voice ask, and he looked over to see Benny the lab tech beside him.

"We just got in—we stayed behind to check the bodies for paperwork. We got the mortar crew that did this," he said, even though he was sure he shouldn't have said anything yet.

"Good," Benny said viciously, causing Rex to raise an eyebrow in surprise. That was not like the Benny he'd come to know over the last week.

"What is wrong—besides this attack, I mean," Rex asked, carefully drawing the tech to the side for a moment.

"Rebecca's missing; she was in the first ward hit."

That was the blue-eyed blonde that Rex had noticed on his first day here, a favorite among the staff.

"Has she been found?"

"Haven't gotten in that far yet," Benny admitted mournfully. "Rounds kept coming in, an' the roof came down."

"We will look… and then we will see to my Pet. He caught a bullet in his leg; it is still in there. But he can wait where he is, for now." It hurt to put other humans before his Pet, but it was true. Taylor's wound would keep; these in here needed his help _now._ And at least Rex knew _exactly_ what Taylor would wish him to do first.

More and more men came to help once they were certain that there would be no further attack that night. Satellites scanned the countryside all around, but found no heat sources where there shouldn't be any. Many of the wounded in the hospital were now dead—ironically, the wing hit heaviest was the one housing wounded prisoners. That, unfortunately, was where Rebecca had been when the first round had struck.

At last all other areas were pronounced cleared of live bodies, and the task of clearing the collapsed wing was started. Rex took a look at all the hands helping now, then went to pull aside a doctor. He didn't care that it was one he hadn't met before; it was qualified medical help. "Doctor, I realize that you are busy, but I have a man waiting for aid outside. He has a bullet in his leg; it must be removed, and then _I_ can care for him," Rex said once he had the harried man's attention.

"A bullet… when did he get shot?" the man asked, barely coherent himself and wavering on his feet.

"It has been hours now. He was shot when we took out the ambushers of that patrol, but did not tell me until after the rest had started back. I am glad, now, for I would have sent him back with the others, had I known. And I might have lost him."

The man stared blankly at Rex for a moment, then it clicked. "You're that other vampire. And it's your companion that's hurt? How come you're not tearin' this place apart to get him help?" The doctor was amazed; he'd never heard of a vamp being this tolerant of his human not being seen to _immediately._

"He would wish others seen to first," Rex admitted with a scowl. "I will go back to helping once he is seen to now."

"Let me get some stuff together," the doctor said, stifling a yawn. "Can you bring him over to that tent?" He indicated a field tent that had been set up well away from the damaged building. Rex nodded and went to retrieve Taylor, whom he now found unconscious.

Everyone got out of the way of the gamefaced, snarling vampire who pushed abruptly past, his injured Pet carefully held in his arms.

~o~

It didn't take long to get the bullet out. An IV was started, and a unit of blood hung. To the doctor's consternation, Rex again ripped into his wrist and let a little of his blood flow into Taylor's mouth. "It is not enough to turn him, but it will give him strength and help him heal faster," he explained carefully. "It will only work with him, though, because I have claimed him," he lied, realizing that these humans might very well try to bleed him dry if they thought his blood would help save the other injured people in their care.

The doctor's reply of, "Oh. Well, at least it can help _him,"_ made him glad of the lie. He could feel a chill run down his back at the close call.

"Look," he said at last, "it is too crowded here. The place where my quarters are looked untouched. I will bring my Pet there; then I will come back here. At least you will not have to feed me any of your blood supply tonight." So saying, he unhooked the IV despite the doctor's objections and carried Taylor out of the temporary hospital.

No one was crazy enough to try to stop him once they realized who he was. He'd been correct; their building was undamaged. He gently laid Taylor on his cot, adding an extra blanket to his covers, then looked into his own room. With a laugh, he noticed the body bag left on the floor beside his cot. His future Childe was safe, he realized, although he unzipped the bag just far enough to ensure that they'd left the right body. They had, so he closed the bag up once more, looked in briefly at Taylor, then headed back to the hospital.

~o~

He paused just before reaching the collapsed security wing. Men worked with unexpected strength, shifting chunks of masonry they normally would not have been able to move. He listened, but could only hear three heartbeats among the rubble, and they were weak and rapid. He moved forward to try to find whoever was in charge of the work.

He found him at last, a captain that he didn't care for, and who he knew definitely didn't like the vampires. The man looked more harried than usual; Rex almost felt sorry for him. "Excuse me, Captain Baker; if I might make a suggestion?" Rex cautiously began, attracting the man's attention.

"What? …Oh. It's you—what do you want?" he demanded, but he was so exhausted-sounding that Rex couldn't take offense.

"There are only three heartbeats in all of that, and they are weak and failing fast. If you wish, I can guide your men to those locations first," he offered, expecting to be summarily dismissed. To his surprise, the man jumped to accept his offer.

"Men, listen up!" Baker called out. "The Nightstalker here is gonna tell you where in all this mess the survivors are—he says there are three, and we're gonna hafta work fast if we want to get 'em out alive.

"Go on; tell 'em where to dig," he said to Rex, stepping out of the vampire's way.

Men hurried to carefully climb over the rubble to reach the areas that Rex indicated. They just piled what they moved to one side, not worrying about what might be under that. All that mattered was reaching the trapped victims.

One, a prisoner, died just before they got down to him. They let that body lie, turning their attention to the other two survivors.

The second was suffering mostly from lack of oxygen. A nurse, she had been trapped by debris under a patient's bed, which had fortunately held up to the weight that had fallen on it. Her heartbeat picked back up once she'd been put on oxygen.

The third was Rebecca.

She had tried to roll under a bed also, but this one had collapsed, part of the frame snapping and nearly cutting her torso in two. The pressure from all that weight had slowed the bleeding, but she would never make it into surgery once they uncovered her.

"Save her, Bloodsucker!" Benny nearly begged him from beside Rex.

"I cannot; I swore I would only turn the willing," Rex protested unhappily.

"Please! I have her medical POA (1)… she's my half-sister," he confessed in near-panic. "Bloodsucker—_Rex,_ please save her!"

"She wondered what it would be like," one of the other nurses said, appearing seemingly from nowhere. "I think she'd want it—or do you just like men?"

"I like both, but that is not the issue here," the vampire hesitated, then gave in. He had liked the looks of this woman from the first time he'd seen her and found a deep respect for her growing as he got to know her better. He saw Colonel Oliver at one side, and pointed. "She will be my second; she would not live long enough for surgery, and would never heal right even then. Yes?"

"Yeah; that's what they're telling me, too," Oliver confirmed after meeting the eyes of several doctors. He watched as the vampire shooed a number of the nearby humans farther away, then lay down on the rubble beside the still-trapped nurse. He couldn't lift her into his arms as he would have preferred, but he could still manage.

He was much gentler when he bit into her neck than he had been with McElroy, even though she wasn't aware of what he did. It would leave a neater-looking scar, though… things like that were important to a female, he knew. He drank much more deeply here; then, as her heart began to stutter, he fed her his blood. There were tears from the watching humans when her heart finally stopped; to his surprise, Rex found that he was crying as well.

He moved the debris off her himself, then carried her bloody, broken body away. He would wash it with his own hands… Benny came with him, carrying a blanket to wrap her in, and Rex allowed him to help. He brought her back to his quarters, then, and settled down to wait. It was all that he could do.

~oOo~

In due course they rose, bright, strong Childer both. Taylor was kept busy, hobbling back and forth despite his healing leg, bringing Rex warm blood to drink. The two new vampires fed exclusively from their Sire, for he wished them firmly bonded to him and as strong as he could make them.

Within a week, though, he realized that he couldn't feed two fledgling Childer at once. Regretfully, he supplemented them with bagged blood. He talked to them for hours on end, teaching them what he could by word of mouth.

One of their earliest lessons was never to hiss or snarl at Rex's human Pet. That was a mistake that Rebecca swore she would _never_ make again. Craig just swore never to make it at all. And Taylor did his best just to stay out of their way.

Newly-made vampires were damned _scary!_

By the end of the second week, Taylor was barely limping, much to the doctors' amazement. And the Childer were bored. Benny came by to visit several times, and Rebecca seemed to remember him and started to long for her old life. She begged Rex for permission to go back to work at the hospital. Reluctantly her Sire took her there one night after he'd fed her. He was ready to subdue her if she tried to attack any of the patients, but, to his surprise, she did not react aggressively to the scent of blood and healing wounds.

She was happier after that, returning to work she both loved and excelled at.

Craig was easier for Rex to deal with. He went out with Glenn and Keever, even though Glenn was only a Childe himself. The young demon rejoiced in the kill, but never went overboard. The SpecOps guys quickly decided that they liked this new Craig almost as well as the old one, although he was no longer their lieutenant. His speed and strength just astounded them.

And Rex was forced to do some "soul-searching" of his own. It would be at least thirty years before these two would normally be deemed sufficiently mature to hunt away from their Sire, but these were not normal circumstances. If Rex took them home with him, they would be discontent, for they would know that they'd been brought away from a place where they would be of the most use.

In thirty years, who knew if they would still be needed by the military? Rex thought that they might, but still…

The next morning, he went to see Colonel Oliver. "Could you make arrangements for my return to the States, please? I have been away too long as it is," Rex explained, his face somewhat downcast.

"I can have that seen to," Oliver replied, wondering what was wrong. "Places for four, right?"

"No. I will be leaving my Childer here, where they will do the most good," he answered, to the base CO's surprise. "Rebecca is not bloodthirsty so long as she feeds regularly; she is happier with bagged blood, although she will kill easily if she feels that she has to. Craig will work with whichever 'vamp-ler' team is in-country, for _he_ still needs supervision, and will for quite a few years to come. I will contact the Nightstalkers' Nest Master once I return home and have him send out a trained pet for each of them."

"But I thought…"

"So did I," Rex interrupted with a wry grin. "The military has done its best to make due reparations for what was taken from me. I now have two new Childer, who are everything I could have hoped for. I, in turn, do not wish to deprive my country of the skilled services of the individuals that they once were.

"So. I leave my Childer here, in service to their country in much the same manner as the Nightstalkers. Once they are no longer needed by the military, they are to be returned to me; I will accept them back willingly in that case. I have spoken to them both; they understand that I am not deserting them, or casting them off.

"And, also after the custom of the Nightstalkers, they will now be known as Rebecca chi-Rex, and Craig chi-Rex, of Whittington. My business here is done, Colonel, once my travel arrangements are made. Thank you for your help and hospitality, sir. It has been a pleasure."

And then Rex voluntarily stood to attention for the first, and last, time in his unlife.

**Notes**

(1) Power of Attorney


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Rex sat staring pensively out his sitting-room window at the leaves still clinging stubbornly to the trees. The sun was setting, turning the sky reds and oranges that matched those remaining leaves. He could see the Stable Kids out playing in the fallen leaves that they were supposed to be raking up.

Taylor shifted against the vampire's legs, his warm body leaving one section to chill while it soothed another with its heat. "What's wrong, O Master o' mine?" he asked, his voice soft and teasing.

Rex looked down at his Pet, green eyes meeting concerned brown ones. "I'm not sure," the vampire admitted, his unhappiness showing in his eyes. He would never show this degree of vulnerability to anyone else, but Taylor? Taylor had his back no matter what; he knew this with the same certainty he had of the fact that he would dust when he met his final death.

He was restless; that was the root of his discomfort. Restless, and he felt deprived… No; more that he felt _bereft,_ but why, he was uncertain. Ever since they'd gotten home again, this feeling had grown. At first it had been all he could do not to growl at the slightest irritants; now he was despondent. And he knew that Taylor wasn't the only one to feel that his mood was off.

"I need some excitement," he finally announced. "We have done too good a job here, taming my territory."

That was true. Drug dealers were killed off nearly as soon as they moved into the area. Juvenile runaways were picked up at the bus and train stations as soon as they arrived, going into one Stable or another. Rex made a point of periodically visiting the Stables of his subordinate Masters, allowing them to see his own when an example was needed.

They still found the occasional terrorist—those people were either more stubborn or stupider than the drug dealers—but they drained just as well. Master Henrí took most of the women and children from those households for his own Stable; culturally they didn't get along as well with the other groups of humans, so Henrí had a specialized Stable.

But there was little real action here anymore. And if Rex was growing bored, the others most likely were also. Bored vampires were troublesome ones; something would have to be done, or everything could blow up in his face. Where to go, though? _That_ was the problem.

He needed a large city, where there was a reasonable demon presence, but not many vampires—or at least, not well-established ones. The presence or absence of Slayers was unimportant. He sighed; either way he would have to confer with Don Marco, so he didn't inadvertently create problems for him.

He looked at Taylor. "Pack, my Pet; we need to go to Chicago tonight. Tell Dobbs the same; I will notify Corey." He rose and paused only long enough to call the clinic to warn them that he would possibly not be in on Monday, then he went to find his oldest Childe.

~oOo~

The court in Chicago always reminded Rex of a scene out of the movie _The Godfather._ Not really surprising, seeing the influence the Italian Mob had had on the City. He wondered briefly what the Court here had been like before the Mafia had gained such power; maybe someday he'd ask around, see if anyone remembered those days.

Now, though, he had other things on his mind. His Childe at his side, trailed by their two Pets carrying gifts, Rex approached his Master.

Don Marco looked at his _capo,_ Rex—the head of one of his territories. He smiled. This had been a good choice, even if he had made it in an emotional moment. He might not have given the Whittington vampire that large a territory to run if he had been thinking rationally, and that would have been a shame. The Twin Cities region was now a quiet, well-run area; few problems originated there now. Some of the human authorities knew about demons, this was true, but somehow Rex had made them turn a blind eye to his activities there.

Now, though, here he was… bearing gifts. This was not always a good sign. Most of his _capi_ tried to avoid coming to court, fearful of losing what they had—the good ones, anyway. The ambitious ones he saw far too much of. He had believed this Master Rex to be a good _capo; _Don Marco hoped he'd not been wrong.

The _capo di tutti capi_ rose from his chair and looked sternly at Rex. "You—come with me, and bring them with ya." He turned and headed for one of his smaller audience chambers, wanting privacy if this was about to go bad.

Rex just followed his Master in silence, watching as the door to the room shut behind them with a dull _thud._ He waited until Don Marco had seated himself comfortably, then he and Corey bowed in respect. Their Pets were already on their knees, heads high, but eyes lowered.

"So, whaddaya want now?" Don Marco demanded, foregoing all pleasantries.

Rex grinned. "Not a lot, Don. More that I was wondering if you had a city in your territory with perhaps some demon problems. Somewhere with a weak, or no Court of vampires, where my Court and our households could go to hunt and fight, with fewer restrictions. As it is said, one should not shit where one sleeps."

Don Marco looked at him in surprise, then burst out laughing. "An' here I thought you was goin' t' start trouble!"

"No; more like I wish to avoid trouble starting. _I_ am bored, so I know my Court must be, also. If I can help you in addition, that just makes the solution better." Rex let his own smile show, now that it seemed that his Master might be open to the suggestion.

"That's good thinking," he agreed, "an' I got just the place for youse t' go play. There was a Court there, but th' Master was a stupid bitch that drove off anyone who could'a helped her hold the city. Other demons took over; now the humans are leaving, and the city is goin' t' hell. You an' yer people can go there t' hunt all ya want."

"And what city is that, Don Marco?" Rex asked as politely as he could.

"Detroit."

~o~

They were put up for the day in opulent guest quarters, and, though no one gave the Pets a second look, Rex was still edgy. At least he thought this was the source of his restlessness, but as the next evening progressed, he came to the conclusion that the _real_ problem was something else. Don Marco's Court was interesting, with entertainment provided by various singers, but Rex and Taylor turned in early that night—well, early in vampire terms, anyway. Corey stayed up much later, catching up with his friend Joey, Don Marco's youngest Childe. He had been with them through the hell of Hunter Base; his former handler was now his Pet. And while Sammy Chen didn't seem quite as happy and content as Taylor and Dobbs, he still looked healthy enough for Rex. Not that it was _his_ business anymore, of course.

So Rex was up by midafternoon. He wasn't sure quite what he was looking for, so he had Taylor bring his car around to some shade, then left to drive around by himself. Taylor had looked stunned to be left behind in Corey's care, but he made no protest, so Rex was satisfied that he would be safe enough. Taylor could visit with Joey's Pet while he, Rex, was gone.

He drove around Chicago, looking for inspiration for the solution of his dilemma. The day was darker than usual, the heavy cloud cover threatening an early winter storm and making it seem later than it was. In his wanderings, he passed several of Chicago's hospitals; he slowed at each, but that wasn't quite right… Finally, he realized just what the problem was.

He had made Childer, but he had left them behind. True, that had been the best solution for all of them, but he still missed the young fledges sorely. He was one of those rare vampires who felt the urge to _nurture_ their young Childer, not just torture them into compliance, as they taught them a vampire's ways. _"Empty-nest syndrome," perhaps_; he snickered at himself as he thought that. But he stopped at the next hospital he saw and asked where the local VA hospital might be… after all, Chicago was a _big_ city; surely they must have one here, he reasoned.

They gave him directions, easy enough to follow. _This_ felt right. He would look for a serviceman or –woman who was here with some terminal illness and no family to see to them. There were sure to be some here like that; Rex would visit them and see if one might be willing to be turned.

It was harder than he'd thought. Due to recent legislation, they couldn't give out information about the patients' family status or medical conditions. No, they couldn't tell him who got visitors and who didn't… No, he couldn't just go in to visit the patients randomly; he had to be visiting someone in particular… No, it wasn't time for visiting hours yet.

Rex was about ready to snap. Finally, he went back outside and pulled out his cell phone, nearly breaking it in his frustrated anger.

"Williamson." The lawyer's voice sounded tired, resigned.

"They will not let me in to speak to the patients here!" Rex snarled, not realizing how confusing that might be to the JAG on the other end of the call.

"Okay. Where exactly are you, Master Rex?" Williamson wondered just what the vampire was up to now. Had something happened? "Is Taylor all right?"

"Taylor is fine," Rex answered the more important question first. "I am in Chicago, at their veterans' hospital. I thought to look for a Childe here…"

"Uhhh… I was told that you found two in Afghanistan, Master." Williamson was cautious as he said that; it wouldn't do to anger the vampire further, after all.

"I did, but I left them there as Nightstalkers. They still serve the military in much the same capacity as before," Rex explained, calming. "So I do not actually have them; the Army and the Marines do. They were dying of combat wounds when I turned them, my JAG; I still do not have my Childer…"

"Okay, okay, calm down, okay? Let me make a call; you'll probably only be allowed one now—count the others as one, since they're still in service." Williamson frantically wracked his brains, trying to figure out how to work this.

"That is acceptable," the vampire agreed readily, glad now that he'd thought to call the captain. "It is better to deal with only one fledgling at a time, anyway," he admitted with a shrug that Williamson couldn't see, but could hear in his voice.

"Okay. If you could wait somewhere—your car, maybe—I'll make some calls, see what I can do. Chicago VA, right? You can tell me later what brought you to Chi-town. 'Bye." Williamson ended the call.

Rex just settled on a bench outside, somewhat sheltered from the rising wind. He was prepared to wait as long as it took; he wasn't hungry, and he had all night. It never even crossed his mind that the lawyer might fail him.

An hour and a half later, Williamson called back.

"Okay, Master Rex, here's the deal," the lawyer explained carefully. _"They_ think that you're a wealthy philanthropist, here to interview some terminal patient for removal to private care at no cost to the patient. Only those with absolutely no living family can qualify, and they have to be lucid enough to understand what they are agreeing to. This is to be explained as a non-standard course of palliative care that is still in the developmental stages and is highly classified. You'll have to use your other name…"

"I have gotten used to using it among human officials," Rex assured the JAG with a chuckle. "Will they let me in now?"

"Someone will meet you in the lobby in… ten minutes, I believe."

"Thank you, Captain. You always manage to produce results," Rex said, meaning this as high praise.

Williamson sighed. "Yeah. So far, at least. Just remember my successes the day I can't get you what you want, okay?"

"I will, never fear," Rex laughed; then he rose and headed back towards the lobby. "Tell me, though: How many of your limbs and future offspring did you have to promise this time?"

"Good thing I'm a slimy octopus and spawn out hundreds each go-'round," Williamson chuckled back. "Good luck, Master; I hope you find someone that suits you."

"Thank you. And for the record, you are definitely _not_ a slimy lawyer. A foxy one, perhaps, but not slimy. Good-bye, my JAG." Rex ended the call, putting away his phone as he re-entered the lobby.

A few minutes later a harried-looking doctor entered from one of the doorways opposite, looking around the crowded lobby in annoyed puzzlement as he did so. Rex approached him, a smile plastered on his face. He managed to maintain it even as he was buffeted by the other humans milling about the place. "I believe you may be looking for me," he said in a carefully modulated voice.

"Mr. Alexander?" the man asked, sizing the other man up carefully. Expensive suit, good shoes—classy looking, not ostentatious. He relaxed a bit.

"Yes. I'm afraid that I wasn't given your name by my contact man," Rex said, trying to sound apologetic.

"Oh, right. I'm Dr. Hall. If you'll come with me, we can talk in my office." He turned to lead the way without waiting for a response. Rex scowled briefly, but followed without objection.

At Dr. Hall's office, Rex was offered a seat once the door was closed behind him. "Now, what's this all about?" the doctor demanded. "They didn't tell me a thing, only that I had to show you patients that met certain parameters. Let me tell you right now, mister, I _don't_ approve of specious experimentation on our servicemen and -women. They've put their lives on the line for this country."

"And _that_ is why I offer this," Rex cut smoothly into his tirade. "I very much admire them for what they have sacrificed, and feel that those with no families deserve better than to end their days alone in a sterile hospital environment, surrounded by an overworked nursing staff. I can provide a home-like atmosphere for them, with visitors—young people—to help them pass the time, and dedicated, personal attention. The care plan itself may be a bit unorthodox, and I am not at liberty to discuss it, but trust me when I say that the selected candidate will not suffer from it. The degree of care is, unfortunately, why I can only accommodate one at this time," Rex said, sounding as regretful as he could.

"I see," Dr. Hall said, allowing himself to be somewhat placated. He didn't have a lot of choice in this, if the truth were told, since the orders had already been issued, and at least this Alexander character sounded sincere. He sighed and picked up a short pile of folders from the side of his desk. "These are our patients who fit the criteria at the moment. While I can't let you see the files themselves right now, I _can_ tell you what the underlying condition is before you meet each one."

"Do you have photographs of them?" Rex asked casually. "I can tell much from that, if they are current pictures."

"No; just the shots from their service records," Hall said, looking at his visitor suspiciously. "You're not prejudiced or anything, are you?"

"No… but it _is_ a matter of age," the vampire admitted. "My program works best with patients in their twenties or early to mid-thirties. The older the patient is, the less likely we are to achieve the desired results." It sounded like a good excuse to Rex, at least. Actually, he just didn't want a Childe who looked older than the Sire.

Dr. Hall frowned, but said, "I see," as he removed three folders from the pile with seeming regret. He looked up sharply at the vampire. "Still need to see pictures?"

"No; that will be fine. Shall we go, though? I still need to speak to each candidate privately; they need to accept all the conditions willingly, without other interference, however well-meaning." Rex watched as the doctor's feathers ruffled, but the man kept his comments to himself.

"This way, then," he said, rising abruptly and stalking to his door.

They passed through a labyrinth of corridors, finally pausing at a nursing station on the fourth floor. "All right," Hall said as he came to a stop. "This is the Hospice wing. A lot of these men and women have problems stemming from chemicals they came in contact with on the battlefield, stuff that caused cancer-like conditions. Can you work with that?"

"Yes; easily," Rex calmly replied. "We can also deal with damage caused by bacterial diseases that have gone dormant, and even, perhaps, battlefield trauma, depending on the actual damage done. But these are exactly the types of people we are set up for."

"Okay." Hall relaxed again; he'd been afraid that this Mr. Alexander would balk at the types of problems they had up here. He turned to the nurses' station and glanced at the charts there, noting down room numbers. "Let's go, then," he said, leading the way down the hallway to the first room on his list.

The first two patients were not lucid enough; the third told Rex in no uncertain terms to leave him alone. The next man, though… He took one look at Rex, then shifted his gaze to the doctor. Seeing no signs of understanding on the man's face, he turned thoughtful eyes back to Rex. "You remind me of someone I met once in the Rockpile," the young man rasped out carefully. _That pale, pale skin—how can that doctor miss it_?

"Do I indeed?" Rex replied, curious now. "Who was that, pray tell?"

"A SpecOps guy, from a real hush-hush unit. Didn't know his name, though."

"Ah. Well…"

"This is Mr. Alexander, Corporal Santos. He's got some special program he'd like to talk to you about," Hall cut in, wanting to move this along.

Marc Santos watched the way his visitor responded to this rudeness. He saw the faintest trace of yellow flash for a second in those green eyes, and he _knew._ That doctor sure didn't, though, or he'd never have interrupted that way. He grinned despite the brief flash of fear that he'd felt at seeing _Mr. Alexander_'s ire.

And the vampire in the room grinned back. "Perhaps I might come back and speak to you further, after I have seen the other patients the good doctor has to show me."

"Yeah… yeah, you can come back; I'll at least talk to you, sir," Corporal Santos agreed without hesitation. So _this_ was how they recruited for that unit; maybe… He could think of worse ways to go, like the cancer that was eating him alive. This would be quick, and maybe he could still serve his country…

"Good. I will be back shortly," Rex said with a genuine smile, then turned to the doctor. "Who else is on your list?"

~o~

It wasn't long before the tap came at his door. "Come in," Santos called, although he'd heard that an invitation was only needed if it was a home. The door opened, and the vampire walked in, alone this time.

"So, you're recruiting?" Santos asked, taking the bull by the horns.

Rex grinned. "In a sense. I am looking for someone to be a Childe—you know what that is?"

"I know. Like I said, I met someone over in Afghanistan. We got to talking; that's what he said he was."

The vampire nodded. "It is good that you said nothing when the doctor could hear; the man is a fool. Still… I plan on trying something with you first; if that does not work, then I will turn you, _if_ you are willing. And in that case, you would be a Childe, not just a minion."

"And… then what? I go back into the military as one of them?" Santos asked curiously.

"No. I already have two Childer in military service. I need one here at my side… Actually, I have one, but I desire a second, to replace the ones taken from me by the military—it is a long story. You can hear it later, if you agree to this." Rex almost laughed at himself: He was rambling!

"You said you wanted to try something first," Santos said, having caught that. "What is it?" Now he was cautious.

"I would give you doses of my blood. It has some healing properties," Rex carefully explained, watching his candidate closely. "I have seen my Pet heal faster than expected; I wondered if it might not help your condition. We could _not_ tell the doctors, though; they would catch and drain every vampire they could get their hands on. I would have to tell them, eventually, that you died from your condition—it is what they expect, after all. My JAG can square things with the government if this works, and you would stay with my household, in my Stable as one of my Claimed. If it does _not_ work, I will turn you as a Childe."

"And you would want to keep me if I live… Why?"

"To drink from." Rex was being candid; _this_ human deserved to know what he was agreeing to. "I keep some humans thus, so I do not have to kill as often. My Pet is unhappy if I kill any but criminals, and we sometimes run low on those in my territory. You have no family, so you would come to Minneapolis with me."

"And if you turn me?"

"I will teach you what you need to know, and you will _still_ come to Minneapolis with me, as part of my household. We hunt out the criminals there, as I have said, and other demons that might kill humans."

"And you think they'll just let you do this?" Santos was amazed at the vampire's gall.

"Would you care to speak to my JAG lawyer?" Rex's eyes held laughter now as the young man looked shocked. "The government _knows_ about us, remember? This has been arranged; you need only be willing to come with me. I will not take you otherwise."

"Sure; why not?" he said finally. They said he'd die from the cancer, sooner rather than later, and in pain, unless they drugged him up higher than a kite. That was no way to live; he could tell that the meds were late already. He had nothing to lose… save for his soul, and maybe God would understand… "What do I have to do?"

Rex smiled. "I will be back for you tomorrow evening," he said. "There will be papers for you to sign. Until then, I have something to give you, to start with. Close your eyes, please, and open your mouth."

With a shrug, Santos did so, until he felt a cold finger placed there. The vampire's other hand was behind his head, preventing him from drawing away from the liquid that dripped from the fingertip.

"Swallow; it is your first dose," Rex said quietly, still holding the human in place until he did as he'd been told. "I will put it into juice or some such next time, but I had nothing like that here. They will bring you the paperwork to sign, and I will be back for you tomorrow after dark. Be dressed and ready to go, yes?"

"Yeah… I mean, yessir." Santos blinked, surprised at his own reaction.

Rex just smiled. "Good man. Remember: Be ready." And then he rose and left the room, pleased with his choice.

~oOo~

Back at Don Marco's Court, things seemed strained. Rex couldn't imagine why, until an unhappy Taylor plastered himself to his Master's side. Corey stayed close tonight, keeping Dobbs closer than usual. It wasn't until the furious Don himself came in, trailed by an angry Joey and a bruised, limping Pet, that the pieces began to come together. It did _not_ look good.

Don Marco looked up with a black scowl. "Master Rex—a word in private, yeah? An' leave your Pet with your Childe."

"Certainly, Don Marco," Rex answered unhappily. Taylor reluctantly let go and went over to kneel at Corey's side. Rex looked back at his Pet once, then followed his _capo_ back to a private room. Only Joey and Sammy Chen went with them.

"What can I do for you, Don Marco?" Rex asked, carefully controlling his voice.

"You're goin' back to Minneapolis tomorrow night, yeah?" the other vampire asked, but it almost sounded like an order to Rex.

"Yes, Don. As soon as it is dark," he answered, carefully not mentioning the human he would be picking up at the VA.

"Good. You're gonna take _that_ one with ya." He waved a hand in Chen's direction. The human flinched slightly, but made no protest.

"Sire!" Joey protested, obviously a continuation of an earlier argument.

"I have said it, and it will be so!" Don Marco bellowed, leaving both his Childe and the human to cringe before his wrath.

"You wish me and mine to find other lodgings for tonight?" Rex offered, careful not to look at Joey or Chen.

"No. I'm not gonna put guests out just 'cause I got an ungrateful Childe," Don Marco replied, fighting to get his temper back under control. "You take that one with you, though. It ain't _his_ fault; he's not gonna say _anything_ about this _ever,_ though,_ is_ he." Now he turned to glare at the cowering human, who just offered his neck to the vampire. Don Marco didn't bite him, though; he just patted his head gently. "He's a good boy, Rex; he deserves better than this disrespectful Childe of mine."

"I will care for him gladly, Don," Rex answered with a deep bow, then snapped his fingers. Chen came to kneel at his side without hesitation—he knew he needed to get out of there before he got killed in the crossfire; any sign of an argument would be fatal. "If you will excuse me, then?" Rex said once Chen was in place.

"Yeah, go on; get some rest tonight. Sorry to kick you out so soon."

"I must get back to my own place, anyway, Don. Thank you for your hospitality." Rex knew the dance well, and knew when to leave. He bowed once more, then left, Chen staying close at his side.

He didn't pause in the outer audience hall; just gathered his Childe to him with a glance. Corey and the two humans followed him out and back to their quarters.

He looked at them. "I do not know, and I do not _want _to know what started that. We are leaving here tomorrow, once it is dark. Taylor, you and Dobbs pack the car in the afternoon. Leave a place for one additional person; I do not know how much he will have with him. And Chen is coming with us also.

"How much do you have… what are you called, anyway?" Rex looked at the quietly kneeling human.

"Just some clothes, Master," he replied in a dull voice. "You can call me whatever you want."

Rex looked at Taylor, worried.

"Sammy," Taylor said to answer his master's question. "What th' hell happened?"

"Not here," Rex said shortly. "In fact, not ever. That is what Don Marco ordered. Just fix him a place to sleep tonight; I will get him whatever clothes and such he needs."

They nodded their acceptance and settled for the night. It was quite some time before Rex slept; the quiet sobbing of Sammy Chen disturbed him deeply.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

It was midmorning before they finally pulled into the garage under the main house. There had been the usual delays and foot-dragging over Marc Santos' discharge orders, but that was finally cleared up—after Rex threatened to call his JAG lawyer. Amazing, how the threat of legal action made everything run so smoothly.

Marc looked around himself in amazement. He'd half-thought that the vampire had been handing him a line of bullshit just to get him to agree to this, but now he began to believe what he'd been told. He'd been given a quick tour of the place—estate, really—and had watched as the kids all flocked around their Master—they even called him that with no hesitation. Now, though, he was in the kitchen, watching as the vampire cut his hand and allowed the blood to drip into a glass of orange juice.

"Here; your 'medicine,'" Rex said with a laugh as he handed the glass to Santos. "How would you prefer to be called?"

He looked at him, again surprised. "Uh… Marc, if that's okay with you… Master?"

"That is acceptable," Rex acknowledged. "You could say 'Master Rex,' if you prefer—that is my name now. 'Alexander' was my name as a living man; I only use it for human business. Taylor or Collins will tell you what you need to know; _I_ am going to bed. It is late for me to be up—vampire, 'don'tcha know.'" He laughed at the look of surprise—yet again—on the human's face, then left him to the tender mercies of his Pet and his Stable Chief. Mostly to Collins, Rex knew; Taylor would be in to join him shortly.

Rex smiled; unlife was good.

~oOo~

As the days passed, Rex could see Marc growing stronger, instead of succumbing to his illness. A thorough checkup by Dr. Bauneau showed the cancer going into remission, the tumors that had multiplied so voraciously in his body shrinking in size. After several weeks Williamson was contacted and told to notify the authorities of Santos' death; the JAG was told of the recovery, although Rex again stressed that this had only worked because he had Claimed the human, and that he couldn't guarantee the same success every time. Who knew; maybe that was the truth after all. In any case, it looked like Marc Santos would recover; he would stay in Rex's Stable, and his military records would show his death.

~oOo~

Rex and his Court had been busy. The Twin Cities' Master had been correct—they all had become bored, and relished the thought of someplace to go and hunt and fight more freely. First, though, Rex had some final arrangements to make.

He went to Detroit with Corey and Nick, leaving their Pets at home this time. They found a nice, popular café, and Rex made a call he'd never thought to make: he called Slayer Central.

"Cleveland Academy for Young Women," a female voice answered the phone.

"I need to speak to someone in charge—someone who can put me in contact with the Slayers," Rex specified, then nearly laughed at the sound of the shocked indrawn breath of his audience on the other end.

"Uhhh, sir…" the girl started to obfuscate.

Rex now did laugh. "My dear young lady, please tell your Watcher, or head Slayer, whichever is available, that Master Rex of the Twin Cities would like to speak to them. It is a matter of some importance, in the interest of avoiding unnecessary bloodshed. I will wait while you fetch someone."

"Ummm… okay. Be right back," the girl finally said, laying down the phone, but forgetting to put it on hold. Rex could clearly hear her calling for someone to put a trace-spell on the call—there was a _vampire_ on the line! More confusion ensued; then Rex could hear, "But this says he's in Detroit. I thought you said the Twin Cities; _that's _Saint Paul and Minneapolis!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud…" And then the phone was picked up again, and a different voice said, "Hello?"

"Good evening," Rex replied cheerfully. "Yes, I am currently in Detroit; that is what I wish to speak to you about. Am I to assume that you are in charge?"

"Yeah. You're who again?"

"I am Master Rex; I have met with some of your people, and allowed them to leave my territory with just a warning, and _no_ bite-marks. I would like to meet with whomever you might have in Detroit, to come to some sort of arrangement."

Someone else snarled, "Hey, we _stake_ vamps, we don't make deals with 'em!" This told Rex that he'd been put on speakerphone.

"If you wish needless deaths on both sides, we can continue on that path," Rex snapped angrily just as another girl yelled, "Shut up, Rena!"

"Sorry 'bout that," the second girl said. "So… you wanna meet some Slayers?" There was challenge in her voice.

Rex sighed. "I have killed a Slayer in the past; that is not my intention tonight. Do you know of the situation in the Twin Cities? I do not allow the slaughter of innocents there," he clarified for his listeners. "But my court is growing restless—we have tamed the area too well. To avoid 'accidents' to my wild humans, I have secured hunting rights for my people in Detroit. We mean to hunt vampires, if any are left there, and other demons who are taking over the city. They offer more of a challenge than most humans do. If we _do_ take out any humans, they will be drug dealers and such. I would prefer to arrange a truce with whatever Slayers are here—my people will be told to avoid them, if they are not attacked first."

"You're serious!" She sounded surprised at the offer.

"I am very serious. If they would care to meet with me, I, my Childe, and one minion will be at the Coffee 'n' Cream Café for the next… two hours. This is a public venue; we cry Parlay. I give you my word that we will not track or attack whomever meets with us, after the meeting."

"I'll ask 'em; it'll be up to them."

"Good enough. We may, perhaps, speak again sometime. Good night." Rex ended the call and looked at his companions. "Now, we wait."

~o~

Forty-five minutes later, Rex felt the tingle that meant Slayers nearby. He looked over at his Childe. "Do you feel that? It means that at least one Slayer has come."

Corey nodded, then looked around nervously.

A few moments later, two young women walked into the Café, looking just as nervous. Rex rose politely to his feet, drawing their attention.

"Oh!" the girl in the lead said, stopping in her tracks as she saw him.

Rex looked at her curiously, then sniffed the air. A smile spread across his face then. "We meet again," he said pleasantly as he pulled two chairs over to their table. "Please, come and sit. Would you care for something to eat or drink?"

Corey had risen also; now, finally, Nick did too, although he looked as if he didn't know why the other two had. Slowly the girls came over, not quite losing their caution.

Rex smiled pleasantly. "I am Rex, Master of the Twin Cities. This is my Childe, Corey, and my minion, Nick. This is a Parlay, ladies; you are in no danger from us so long as you do not attack us first. Now, what would you like to have?"

A waitress had wandered their way, wondering why the girls had seemed so nervous, since they'd clearly come to meet these men who had been waiting so patiently. Finally the girls sat, as did the men. Now the waitress stood ready, pen poised over her pad.

The girls looked uncertain, so Rex sighed and looked at the waiting woman. "A black coffee please, and a piece of the spice cake for me." Corey ordered next; Nick just asked for a glass of water. When the waitress looked at him oddly, he just smiled and shrugged.

"Doctor's got me on a special diet—heart problem, he says."

The woman gave him a sympathetic smile, then looked to the two girls. They finally gave in and placed an order, and the woman left them alone at last.

"So… you wanted to meet—Oh, I'm Verity," the first girl said, looking mildly embarrassed. She didn't introduce her companion, though.

"I am pleased to meet you once again, Miss Verity," Rex said with a genuine smile. "As I told your people in Cleveland, I wish to establish a hunting truce of some sort. While my court _is_ still killing humans, most are consuming purchased blood, collected just for us by the Red Cross. Those we do kill are criminals—drug dealers, child molesters, terrorists, and the like. The Twin Cities has become tame, and my Court grows bored—and this is dangerous for my wild humans. The innocents, I mean. I have arranged with those in authority over _me_ to let my people hunt here, but I do not mean to endanger you or your sisters. Slayers serve a purpose—you keep down the masterless minions who might expose all of us to the bulk of the population. We can all agree that this would not be to anyone's benefit, yes?" He paused while the waitress passed out their drinks and the pastries that had been ordered, then continued once she'd gone away again. "We mean to hunt whatever vampires are 'native' here, and the more dangerous demons. Hunting here is for pleasure, for excitement, to alleviate boredom. I will be instructing my Court to avoid you if at all possible; I would very much appreciate it if you would do the same, as I do not really wish to lose my Masters to you―accidents _do_ happen."

"You _do_ realize that our whole purpose is to slay your kind, right?" Verity asked cautiously.

"Your purpose is to protect humanity," Rex corrected calmly. "We, too, are protecting people, from the human predators that your law officers are being kept from dealing with by the very laws that are meant to protect the rest."

"Huh?" asked the other girl, confused by the convoluted statement—English was not her first language.

Verity smiled at her. "The cops can't take down the bad guys, 'cause the laws interfere with 'em. Cops catch 'em, an' the courts just turn 'em loose again, most of the time. So Master Rex and his vamps just eat the bad guys—problem solved."

"Oh—yeah!" the girl said with a big grin as she understood, then frowned suddenly as she _understood._ "Oh, no…wait…"

"Don't sweat it, okay?" Verity said with a smile of her own, then turned back to Rex. "So, what—you just want us to stay home the nights your people are here? No can do—there's a lot of trouble in this town."

Rex sat in thought a moment. "Perhaps you can let me have your phone number; my court can tell you where they will hunt, so you can avoid them. We could divide the city into rough quadrants… Naturally, if one should actually be foolish enough to attack you, you would be expected to defend yourself and dust your attacker. My under-Masters would not challenge my authority on this, nor would their Childer. I am not certain how firm a hold they have on their minions, though. And there _are_ a few vampires left here still, who are not under my authority at all."

"So… If we see a vamp, and he tries to head the other way, we just let him go? That what you're suggesting?" Verity asked, wanting to be sure of this.

"I will have them inform you before they come into town, or just after they arrive. If you have received no such notice, _I_ would say that any that you make actual contact with are fair game. If they are too stupid to remember to contact you, they are too stupid to live," Rex said with a swallowed snarl.

Verity laughed. "Fair enough. And you swear they won't hunt humans?" She waited for that confirmation, but Rex shook his head.

"We might take out the occasional criminal here, also―would you wish a murder in progress to just be ignored?―but that would not be primarily why we come. I will not try to tell you otherwise, for that would not be honest. And the only way I can see this working is if there is total honesty between us."

She looked at him for a long moment, then finally nodded. "I can live with that, I guess. Let me give you my number…"

"And you, my own—and my e-mail address. I _am,_ after all, a vampire living in the twenty-first century," he added at her surprised look. "My kept humans use computers all the time; why should I not?"

"No reason, I guess," Verity said as she passed a piece of paper to the vampire. She looked at him then and grinned, her head cocked to one side. "So, wanna go kill something tonight?"

He looked at her and laughed quietly. "I thought you would never ask."

~oOo~

Midwinter, and Rex was back in Chicago once more. This time he did not go to Court, as he thought it best to avoid Don Marco for a while. He had heard, through the grapevine, that the Don had had a huge row with his youngest Childe shortly after their last visit. Joey had stormed out in a huff, two minions trailing along after him. That had been part of the reason for the argument, Rex had heard; the Childe had started gathering his own following, against his Sire's wishes.

Joey, being a hothead, had challenged the first Slayer he'd seen and had gotten himself and one of his minions dusted for his trouble. The other minion had slunk off, returning to Court to tell the tale, whereupon Don Marco had dusted him for not saving his Childe. Rex had just shaken his head; there was no way to win in such a situation. In any case, Sammy Chen mourned the passing of his former master, but otherwise did well enough in the Stable.

Still, Rex was back in Chicago, and avoiding Court. He'd come back to revisit the VA hospital. Marc Santos had made a full recovery, had gotten a totally clean bill of health, and seemed content enough in Rex's Stable also. So Rex had come back to try his luck once more.

He hadn't bothered notifying Williamson this time; he _had_ brought along documentation of Santos' "death," to justify his return, since, after all, he now had another opening for a terminal patient. He found things much easier this time, since he had a specific doctor to ask for. It didn't hurt that he had taken the time to charm the help on his last visit here; they remembered him and smoothed the way somewhat.

Dr. Hall met him in his office, looking over the "proof" of a much easier passing than had been predicted for Santos. "I must say that I'm impressed, Mr. Alexander," he said as he finally closed the file. "Do you have any idea when this procedure might be more widely available?"

"I don't know if it ever will be," Rex carefully answered. "It is quite costly—and very labor-intensive, as you can see. But I am willing to help those that I can, and I feel certain that others may step forward in the future to do likewise."

"I hope so," Dr. Hall said, then sighed and picked up two files. "We only have two new patients in since your last visit that meet the criteria, and I'm not certain about one of them. His condition is quite advanced…"

"We shall see, yes?" Rex said, trying to project a positive attitude that he didn't really feel. _Only two candidates?_ But Hall was heading for the door, so he rose to follow behind once more.

Neither patient was suitable, to Rex's deep regret. One knew vampires, but projected such fear and revulsion that he didn't even try to convince the woman. The other was so heavily drugged that informed consent wasn't even a remote possibility.

He was heading out when he happened to glance into one last room and paused. He _knew_ that man from somewhere… and he was recognized in turn. The man almost called out to him, but a quick shake of the vampire's head silenced him. Rex looked over at the doctor. "Are there any patients that _almost_ meet the criteria? I would hate to have my facility stand idle… and it is difficult, establishing a working relationship with another hospital."

"I could check," Dr. Hall replied uncertainly, perking up at Rex's smile.

"Would you, please? I would certainly appreciate that."

"All right. Are you coming back down, or would you rather just talk to some of the other patients?" Hall asked, having seen Rex's interest in this one particular patient.

"I will talk to some of these others, if you don't mind," Rex answered, wishing the doctor would just _go away._ He did, after a long look at the man whose room they were in front of.

Rex stepped inside. "I'm sorry; do I know you?" he asked curiously as he tested the air.

"You probably don't remember me, but I sure remember you," the man said, carefully keeping his voice down. "You pulled a Fyarl offa me one night, almost two years ago now. They transferred me out six months later, when I started showing signs of this."

"And 'this' is?" Rex asked carefully, trying to place this man in his mind, for his scent _was_ somewhat familiar. Hunter Base, definitely, but he hadn't been one of the handlers. One of the other soldiers, then, the SpecOps boys who had played escort and backup during patrols.

"Multiple myeloma," he said in disgust. "Technically, you shouldn't be in here, in case I catch something—my immune system's for crap. Nothing they've tried has helped; it's just a matter of time now—and not much of that left."

Rex looked at him carefully. "Do you have any family?" he asked at last.

"None that matters. Got a stepfather still alive, but I haven't spoken to him in years. Why?"

"What do I call you…? Oh, they know me here as Julius Alexander," Rex added, realizing that this man would only know him as Rex.

"Steve Hudson—I was one of Captain Miller's men. You were Taylor's…"

"Taylor is still with me, _and_ still alive and well, although the Military clearly does not still have _me_. Tell me, Steve Hudson, would you care to take a chance? At the worst, you would become a vampire…"

**Epilogue**

Steve went home with him. The regimen that had worked so well for Marc Santos did not touch Steve's illness; after three weeks with no improvement, Rex turned the former SEAL. He had his Childe now, and called to tell Williamson that.

~o~

Washington held their collective breath, waiting to see if things would change. Criminals still died, terrorists were still sniffed out. Slowly, in surrounding cities of the Midwest and Canada, similar deaths began to be reported. The press wondered and speculated, and put forth all sorts of crazy theories. But in the Pentagon, they knew: other vampire Masters were following Rex's example, making the common mass of citizens safer… and more complacent.

_Criminals beware!_ the headlines frequently bugled, although most of the malefactors tended to ignore the news services.

The vampires just laughed as the criminal defense lawyers grew frustrated—and leaner, for their prospective clients were slowly being eliminated. The police secretly rejoiced even as they tried to catch the killers—but not too hard. Slayers began avoiding certain areas of certain select cities, after receiving warning phone calls. Demons cringed at the thought of vampires coming after them, supported by the humans' military and the Slayers…

~o~

Yes, Rex thought as he sat out in the warmth of the night, surrounded by his Childer, his minions, their Pets, and his Stable; all truly was right with his world now.

**End Part 4**


End file.
